Cave Story: A Novelization
by JackmanB
Summary: A novelization of the popular freeware-PC game created by Daisuke Amaya a.k.a "Pixel".
1. Chapter 1

_From somewhere, a transmission…_

His panicked fingers typed wildly at the keyboard, desperately trying to make a connection. He had been locked in this bland, featureless room for days now. Maybe. With no windows or clocks, it was impossible to tell. The computer couldn't even give him a straight answer, not having a clock or calendar installed. He had to jerry-rig up an instant messenger algorithm for any hope at all of contacting the outside world; assuming the connection on the heap of junk hadn't crumbled to dust.

_Connecting to network_, the blank, black screen displayed. He crossed his fingers, his eyes glued to the pixels, waiting for that little cursor flashing constantly to print out some good news. He was hungry, and thirsty, and this place didn't even have a bathroom…he had a lot of problems on his plate. This computer was his only shot.

_Logged on_, it displayed – thank Heaven! The line was immediately followed with _Executing chat algorithm…_ He gave one heavy sigh of relief. His rapidly beating heart began to slow, and his shaking hands began to calm themselves.

"Sue? Are you there?" he spoke as he typed, naturally not expecting a verbal reply, but he felt that talking to himself calmed his nerves when he got into the worst of it. He misspelled 'there' once, and he hit the spacebar one too many times; he was having a difficult time keeping himself under control. "It's me. Kazuma!" He shouted his name, as if Sue would be able to hear him.

"I've managed to get away somehow," he continued, his fingers a blur in front of his own face, his mouth parched. "But I've gotten lost…I've found a shelter, but there's nothing here." He glanced around the room as he reflected that message. Nope, still nothing. A computer, a desk, a door that was locked shut…and his teleporter. He couldn't use it to leave, however; it was coordinated back to the Plantation, and he had only just escaped from there. He couldn't risk going back.

"If you can hear me", he wrote, knowing that there was no way Sue could 'hear' him, "please answer!" He wasn't prepared to entertain the possibility that Sue wasn't at her computer, and that he would have to keep waiting for…who knows how much longer now. It was officially out of his hands. "…please?"

* * *

He was standing in the middle of a dark, cold, damp room, awake for only about a minute now. He had no idea how long he was asleep, or what he was doing, or…wait, what _was_ he doing? He had a nagging feeling that it was important, but as for names, faces, locations, scenarios…he was drawing a total blank. No idea whatsoever. He couldn't even remember his own name. Should he be worried? Was something going on? How did he get into this room?

He checked himself over for injuries. Any hurt joints or broken bones? He flexed his arms and legs, and rotated his wrists and ankles. Nothing seems too badly injured…a little stiff, maybe, but nothing he can't walk off. He rolled his head on his shoulders, feeling some resistance around his neck. He brought his hands up to remove whatever was coiled around his neck – a plain, red scarf with no obvious defining features. How did he get this? Was it a gift? Well, all the same, he seemed to be just fine, physically. He wrapped the scarf back around his neck gently. Now, if only he had any idea of where or who he was.

He glanced down his body, getting a good look at his clothes: maybe they'd help spark his memory. A featureless, black tank-top, a pair of obnoxiously-bright-red pants held up with a plain black belt with a golden buckle, and a pair of sturdy, black hiking boots. Nope, still no idea who he was. He didn't even know if he had any sense of fashion or not.

He ran his fingers through his hair, knocking over the hat that he hadn't realized he was wearing. It made a soft 'flump' behind him as it hit the ground; he turned over to pick it up, giving it a look. A regular, red cap that, like the rest of his costume, had no obvious feature to it, except for a peculiar solid-white slate adorning the front, containing a curly, fancy script in red. Was this some kind of emblem? Is this message important? Ugh, so many questions, and not a single answer…

He had examined his clothes, but he still hadn't anything definite about his identity. Maybe the room he was in had something it could tell him? Taking a good look around, the first thing he noticed was that the walls were all made of stone. Uncut, unprocessed stone. So, maybe he was underground? In a cave of some kind? There was a very dim light leaking in through a small crack in the ceiling above him, provided just barely enough light for him to make out where he was.

He seemed to be on a raised platform of some kind, roughly in the centre of the room. He carefully slid off the side of the platform – he felt like he was just getting used to this body, so he didn't know how well he could take a fall.

He hadn't been paying attention to where he was falling, and as a result, he was quickly and totally submerged in water. Just a small wading puddle, really, but it still brought his head under, and sucked all the oxygen out of his system in his surprise. He sunk like a stone in the water, hitting the floor shortly after being dunked. He scrambled to his feet and desperately began reaching for the surface of the water, breaching it quickly and filling his mouth with air. If he was feeling sleepy before just then, he was certainly wide awake now.

He pulled himself out of the small pool and onto its tiny shore easily, jumping back onto the central platform – and then immediately doubled back once his feet hit the platform safely. Did he just _jump _five feet straight up into the air? And that was just a little hop! Is this normal? How high could he jump if he really needed to?

Well, so far, he'd come up with about fifteen questions, and not a single one of them answered. This was a little irritating. Glancing around the room once more, he immediately thought of another: how was he supposed to get out? He obviously came in somehow, so there's got to be a way out as well, right?

His answer was above him, surprisingly: a simple wooden door placed on an alcove above the platform he was standing on, light creeping in through its opening just above the stone floor. It looked a little high up – maybe a dozen feet or more? That was _definitely_ a little higher up than a normal person should be able to just casually leap. So, then, was this room…a coffin? A grave? A prison, maybe? After all, he shouldn't be able to make that jump by himself…

There was a small ledge just a little bit higher than the platform in front of him that could maybe give him the height boost he needed to make it to that door. It's worth a try; staying in this room wouldn't get him any more answers, and he couldn't handle any more questions than he had.

He backed himself to the opposite edge of the platform, to give himself plenty of running space. His eyes firmly on the ledge he wanted to jump to, he gave himself a sprinting start, and leaped off the end of the platform with all his might. He cleared the ledge _easily_, soaring much higher than he had anticipated, and wound up colliding with the wall above it.

He landed without any grace back onto the ledge. Undeterred – he felt little pain from the impact, managing to block his face with his arms and brace his limbs – he took another leap, this time aiming for the alcove with the door, minding his own unknown jumping prowess. This time he managed to not hit anything, although he still tripped and fell when he made his landing; he'll have to work on that.

Pulling himself to his feet and dusting off his clothes, he reached for the brass knob on the door and gave it a gentle twist. A quiet click rang from the door, and with a push, he was finally out of the room. He was expecting some sunlight and some fresh air; heck, he was hoping for someone to give him some answers to be waiting on the other side. A little optimism never hurt.

What greeted him instead were more caves, stretching to either side of him as far as he could see. Nobody waiting for him, no sunlight – just a few lit torches lining the walls – and, most disappointingly, no answers. Plenty of questions, though.

To his left, the caves seem to simply stop, albeit unnaturally; a large patchwork wall was blocking his path. It looked a little frail, however; covered in moss and cobwebs, and with little structure or support, as though it was only thrown up as an afterthought. Perhaps someone really was trying to keep him prisoner here? He tried tearing a piece of the wall down with his hands, but found that he couldn't get a grip on any piece of the wall; most pieces of wood or stone were just too large to wrap his hands around. Well…without any tools to help dismantle or destroy the wall, his captors were winning this fight.

Behind him, the cave proceeded downward, and he couldn't tell just how far downward from where he was standing. A decent way down, at least…he could hear the soft sound of flapping wings off in the distance, echoing off the cave's infinite walls. The cave just seemed to spiral downwards, refusing to give him a clear answer as to how far down it was and how long he'd have to walk until he'd find something new again. But still, it was either follow this stretch of cave down for however far it went, or go back into the room he started in. It wasn't much of a choice.

The cave's floor had very uneven footing, but thanks to his thick, strong boots, he found his grip to be rather sturdy and he didn't slip or trip at all as he walked down the steep incline. Bats dotted the ceiling in sparse groups, minding their own business as he walked slowly, silently under their colonies, taking in as much information about his surroundings as he could. He hoped he could eventually find something that would help him out, like a sign, or a message, or anything.

The cave wrapped underneath itself as he continued forward, drawing him farther into its pits. He eventually found another pool of water waiting for him, supplied by a steady drip from the ceiling. That was just great; as far as he knew, the ceiling could collapse at any moment, crushing him under the weight of tons of stone and dirt. He couldn't turn around, however, knowing that there was nothing waiting for him if he did; he forced himself forward, wading up to his knees in the water as he pressed on.

There was an end to this cave, and it was in sight after only a short trek. At first he felt all his hopes begin to waver, until he could see a carving in the stone wall, proving that someone was at here at least at one point. The carving was less than welcoming, however: a tiger's head, maw agape with all of its finely-chiselled teeth all on display, welcoming anyone who would willingly walk down its throat. The head had a surprising amount of detail on it: the nose, the eyes, the ears, even the fur was taken into account as they were carved out of the stone. He thought it was very impressive as he walked himself into the tiger's mouth.

It was a very brisk walk from the tiger's teeth to the tiger's stomach, but what brightened up his mood immediately was that there was someone else in there. A man! Maybe he could give him some answers! Maybe he could tell him who he was, or what he should be doing!

As he approached the man, however, he noticed that the man hung his head in a particular way, as he sat in his chair with his arm slung over the back. Was…was he dead? He approached the man, looking to see if the man had indeed passed on. No, he could see his chest rising and falling – and he could hear the loud, reverberating noise from his nose with every inward breath. The guy was just asleep, not dead. That was a relief, at least.

He tried everything he could to wake the man up – he clapped his hands, he stamped his feet, he tried poking and shaking the man – but nothing was working. The man could have slept through a stampede. That was really rather irritating; the one chance he had to ask some questions, and the guy was _asleep_. He sighed; the man didn't look familiar to him anyway, and from the looks of his 'house', he hadn't been away from the place for ages. There was a chance he was just intruding on some bum's living space.

Well, this was certainly a bust. He walked all this way, hoping to find something, anything, that could help him with who he was, and he turned up nothing. There was nothing between this room and the room he woke up in, either.

Although…if this guy had really been sleeping down here for as long as he guessed, then he's got to have something that would help him navigate the caves, right? Maybe some kind of weapon to help him hunt for food? He imagined that eating bats constantly would get dull after a while, but food was food, and he had to get it somehow.

He took a look around the room, looking for something that the guy could have used for something like that. He owned a table, the chair he was sleeping in…and a chest in the corner. An unspectacular chest that sort of blended into its surroundings, with its key sticking out of its hole. If he was going to hide something valuable, he reasoned, it'd be in something secure, like a vault, or a chest. So, hopefully there was something in there that he could use.

He walked to the small chest and knelt down, placing his hands on either end of the lid, and lifted it open. In it was a pistol: a very peculiar-looking pistol, with a wooden grip and no cylinder for bullets. Unlike the desk or the chair or the chest, though, the pistol looked well polished and clean as a whistle, like it was the man's most prized possession. But why would he favour a pistol so heavily if it didn't even have a cylinder to load?

* * *

Kazuma had been sitting at his computer for hours now, constantly refreshing his connection to the network in a mad attempt to connect to Sue, after realizing that just because he was connected to the network, he wasn't necessarily connected to her. _Searching for user "Sue"…_ blinked on the screen, preceded by eleven lines saying the exact same thing, only to end with _No users found_. He was beginning to grow desperate.

Knowing that the chances on his twelfth attempt were no better, he tried again anyway, hoping, practically praying for Sue to just log on and give him some help. He bit the nail on his thumb nervously, his right heel thumping on the ground in anticipation. "Come on, come on," he whispered to himself, his eyes scanning the computer screen frantically for any change at all.

Finally, another line printed on the screen, one that broke the pattern: _1 user "Sue" found._ Kazuma nearly leaped straight out of his chair in delight, shouting 'yes!' and pumping his fists to the sky in triumph. He quickly sat himself back down and began blitzing his fingers across the keyboard.

"Sue! Please respond!" he typed, yelling the same thing desperately. "They're looking for you…" Judging from Sue's lack of replies, he could only assume the worst: that she was away from her keyboard. "Are you asleep?" he asked densely, as if he expected a reply if she were. "Your brother is so lonely…"

* * *

Just out of curiosity, he pointed the barrel of the pistol back out the throat of the tiger's stomach, and pulled the trigger. He didn't really expect anything to come out – unless the gun had a single bullet loaded into its barrel, it couldn't possibly carry any sort of ammunition in it.

The moment he pulled the trigger, however, a single beam of light flung from the pistol and seemed to simply phase out after a few yards in front of him. The light came out with a 'thwip' noise, as if the gun was shooting air instead of something else entirely. That was certainly a surprise; he hadn't expected anything to come out of the gun at all. He pulled the trigger several more times, and each time, without fail, a small beam of light would fire from the weapon and simply disappear after a short distance.

As a test, he fired one of these lasers into the floor in front of him, and to his astonishment, there was a singe on the floor where the light had hit. This weapon can actually cause damage: it wasn't just some kind of glorified sparkler. He carefully looked the weapon over, trying to find some kind of apparatus or something that caused this impossible ammunition. He found nothing of the sort; just an etching along the butt of the grip that read 'Polar Star'. Perhaps the name of the gun? Or the name of the genius gunsmith that made it?

He started thinking of any sort of application he could find for the Polar Star. He could hunt some bats, if he wanted, but he'd rather something a bit more practical. Then he remembered the blockade near the beginning of the cave, the one that looked dilapidated and could be destroyed if he had some kind of tool to work with. Could the Polar Star have enough firepower for the job? There was only one way to find out.

With renewed vigour, he dashed his way back to the start of this cave, wading through pools of water and doing his best to not disturb the wildlife of the cave, to the door leading back to the room he woke up in. In front of him was the wall he could not pass before; now was the moment. He picked a spot low enough on the wall for him to walk through, and fired a shot.

The wall did not crumble or shatter as he had expected, but rather, a sizeable chunk of the wall sizzled away where the shot had landed. Finally able to continue to where he assumed would lead outside – a cave must have a mouth, after all – he eagerly pressed forward. Ahead of him was a doorway, with the door that was keeping it closed knocked off its hinges and splintered on the ground to the side.

With the promise that answers would be just through the doorway, he continued onward – and promptly fell straight down when the ground gave way underneath him.

* * *

"Suuuuue!" Kazuma moaned loudly, exhausted from all his frantic typing and hoping and chatting to himself. The one time he had something of dire importance to tell her, and she was off doing who knows what. "Answer me!" he demanded. She was going to get an earful when they get back together, that's for _darn_ sure.

"I'm so hungry…" he lamented quickly after. He rubbed his growling stomach with his free hand, trying to ease the pain he felt from it being so empty. "There's nothing to eat, and I've been reduced to eating cockroaches." He could just hear her reply to that one: _What?! Cockroaches, are you nuts?! Kazuma, you can't really be that hungry, can you? That's so stupid! _"That's a joke," he back-pedalled, forcing out a laugh, even though it wasn't really that funny, given his situation. "But if I have to, though, I really will…"

* * *

"Hand over the key!" he demanded, his face bunched up to a vicious snarl; he wasn't playing around.

"No, I won't!" she yelled back, putting up her fists as if she was going to defend herself over the key. He was a good head-and-shoulders larger than her, though, but she was too intimidated to run, or to even look him in the eye.

He would never strike her, and he relied on his size and tone of voice to get her to cooperate, although she was making this awfully difficult. "Are you trying to protect Sue?" He relaxed his face and lightened his tone, hoping to coax an honest answer from her. "She's a stranger. She's not one of us!"

She managed to drum up the courage to at least open her eyes for her answer. "Sue is a good person," she said simply, clutching the key tightly. "I'd never betray her! I can't give you the key!"

He softened his expression further; now that she seemed to calm down, if only slightly, she might listen to reason. "Toroko…" he said quietly, hunching himself a bit to look her in the eye. "When the Doctor comes," – she looked away from him again after hearing that title – "you know he'll take someone away again. If we don't turn Sue over, it might be you, or me, or any other Mimiga, he takes instead. You can't really prefer a stranger be spared over your own people, do you?"

He hated the look she gave her when he played that angle. She looked as though he was trying to crush her world with just his words and meanings – and, the Doctor reappearing and taking another Mimiga was a fact she couldn't ignore. "But…" she whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"The key, Toroko!" he demanded again once he had made his point, and coming a little closer to crying himself when he saw her reaction to his raised voice. But, it seemed to be working: she was looking at the key she fiercely held in her hand, so hard the blood was draining from her digits, and was really considering handing it over. He wished she would, so he could stop looking at her like this.

Just as she turned her eyes back up to his to give a reply, a huge object suddenly fell from the sky, landing directly between them, with incredible velocity. The surprise knocked the adult Mimiga off of his feet and onto his back, while Toroko, already emotionally fragile, panicked and started running, key in hand, wailing and hollering all the while. She had no direction to her running, just as long as it was _away_.

He groaned, slowly climbing to his feet – in his short time in this cave, he had taken a few surprise falls and drops, but he wasn't exactly prepared for that one. Still, checking himself over again, everything still seemed okay; the Polar Star was still functional as well. He dusted off his red pants, and got a look around his surroundings. This area was huge and hollow, with the ceiling several stories up; there was no way he'd be jumping back up there.

There were several lit torches dotting huge plaza, along with doors carved out of pillars of stone and in the walls of the large, hollow area, looking as though they lead into shelters and homes. One spire in the centre of the room wasn't much taller than the others, but it was much wider, and appeared to hold many more shelters itself. Off in the distance, he could even see some houses. He had found civilization! Was there someone here who could help him?

He looked around the ground where he had fallen; in his freefall, he had seen two creatures directly below them. He hoped he hadn't landed on either of them. One of them was gone, having run off shortly after he had landed, while the other, larger one was behind him, apparently dazed from the impact and still trying to gather his senses. The creature arduously pulled himself up, moaning off his dizziness as he did. "What was that?" he asked himself, waiting for his eyes to focus before getting a look at what had hit the ground in front of him.

Finally managing to get a grip, the creature took a good look at the man that had fallen from the sky (if it could be called that), noting many of his features and characteristics. Aside from the weapon in his hand, he didn't look especially threatening; in fact, he looked confused and lost, if a little hopeful now that he had found something resembling civilization.

The Mimiga immediately thought that the man was an enemy, perhaps a hired hand from the Doctor, especially with that pistol; but if he was going to make a move to abduct him or Toroko for the Doctor, he would have by now. The Doctor's minions weren't very big on subtlety, and he looked as if he wasn't going to make a move with the weapon, either.

"You're not with the Doctor?" he asked. He gave the creature a confused look, as if he didn't know who this 'Doctor' was – and then immediately looked downtrodden, since, if this creature did not recognize him as friend or foe, it would be unlikely that he knew anything about him at all. The Mimiga gave a relieved huff through his nose. "That's good, then…they're not here yet."

The Mimiga looked him in the eyes as he continued. He wore a long, purple robe; it looked a little torn, especially along the bottom, but it actually looked fairly comfortable all the same. He had a painful-looking scar drawn all across his dog-like snout, and he had large, white, floppy ears that reached all the way down to his shoulders. His eyes were a light red, and his pupils were thin slits, like a snake's. "My name is King," he said, without offering a hand to shake or anything of the sort. "I'm the number one in this village. Not that that means a whole lot by now," he continued, his eyes softening considerably as he looked over his village, "with only six of us left and all. Well…seven, if you count Sue. I don't like to, though; she's not one of us. She's just an outsider that showed up recently. Is she a friend of yours?" He wanted to shake his head, since he had no idea who anybody was and couldn't say for certain if he was really affiliated with anybody, but instead just stared blankly, unable to give a 'correct' answer. King gave an annoyed grunt at the silence. "Not a lot to say, huh?" he said, walking past him, intent on finding Toroko. "Whatever. We Mimiga mind our own business. Just stay out of trouble." And he was off.

He looked around his landing site – King said that there were seven Mimiga here? There's him, and the other one he nearly landed on…so, there are five others here. Maybe one of them could help him with his identity.

Just a short distance from where he landed was a sign, next to a doorway. With no other direction to take, he may as well start anywhere, and this doorway was as good a place as any. The sign next to it said 'Reservoir' – probably where the Mimiga got their drinking water, since the rest of the village looked fairly bone-dry.

Just through a short tunnel was a large ditch, where water seemed to collect from an opening in the ceiling. There was no water source, however: it appeared as though the aquifer the reservoir got its water was turning up dry. The reservoir would empty fairly quickly if there was no intake; it was a good thing there were so few Mimiga to maintain, in that case.

Sitting at the edge of the reservoir's shore was a single Mimiga, a fishing rod held loosely in his hand, his demeanour relaxed, as though he was totally unconcerned with the village being so empty, and the threat of some doctor coming by to take anyone by surprise. Next to him was a metal pail, probably containing whatever the Mimiga had caught, or was using for bait. He took a look inside the pale; it was nearly empty, and dry, save for a single piece of shiny metal that rested on the bottom.

The Mimiga looked him in the eye, once it realized he was there. "You with the Doctor?" He asked simply. He didn't seem nervous or apprehensive at all; he knew that if he was, struggling wouldn't help him much, since he'd seen others simply…vanish, whenever the Doctor rolled into town. They weren't carried or carted off, they'd just simply disappear. You can't exactly fight something like that.

Again, since he couldn't remember anything about who he was or who he knew, he couldn't give an honest answer, and instead gave no answer at all. "Guess not," the Mimiga answered for him. "How about Sue? Are you with her?" Yet again, no clear answer, although his expression was changing noticeably to reflect that his not knowing was beginning to distress him. "Do you know her? She's the cute girl that stays cooped up in Arthur's house all the time. She showed up here not too long ago, washed up right here on the reservoir. And since you're not exactly local either, I just thought…well, you know. You don't look like any human I've ever seen – you look different from the Doctor."

Different? Now that the Mimiga had mentioned it, he hadn't taken the time to look at himself in the water's reflection, even with all his opportunities. He got on his hands and knees and crawled to the water's fringe, seeing himself in its mirror. Large, blue eyes, and black, unkempt hair underneath his red hat. His skin was a pretty stark white, and he had these grooves along his face that didn't look too natural to him. He had a pair of odd receptor devices with antennae over each of his ears, as well. He didn't know any other species he could compare himself to, either…

"Sue doesn't seem to like us too much, though," the fisherman sighed dejectedly. "I have no idea why, since she's a Mimiga just like us." He paused a bit, bobbing his rod in the water, trying to stir any fish that might be in there into taking a bite. "Man, the fish sure are lazy today. Hadn't caught anything so far." He suddenly sat up before continuing. "Oh, although I did manage to get this weird…fish-shaped locket thing in the water. It's not food, so, do you want it? It's shiny, and you're…kinda shiny." He reached into the pale at his side, and pulled at the metal that was in there. "It's yours," the Mimiga said, handing it to him. Off the top of his head, he couldn't find any use for a silver locket either, but…well, it couldn't hurt to keep a hold of.

Another dead-end, as far as finding out his identity goes. Well, the village looked fairly large; maybe somebody else would know something. He turned to leave, and standing at the exit to the reservoir was another, smaller Mimiga wearing a green sweater of some kind. Oh! He remembered that one of those Mimiga he nearly fell on was wearing green! It's good to see that she's alright, at least.

Once she realized that she had been spotted, however, she quickly turned to run, and bolted out of the reservoir. She looked disappointed somehow…there being only one exit to the room, he wound up following behind her.

Standing just outside the exit to the reservoir was King, and the smaller Mimiga immediately froze in her tracks, seeing him standing there. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, considering running back into the reservoir, but she knew that that was a dead end, and she'd have to confront King eventually.

"Give me the key!" he demanded again, extending his hand. He was beginning to lose his patience with Toroko.

"No, I won't!" she yelled back. She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and charged forward, straight for King. Out of all her options, he wasn't expecting her to do that; he was caught off-guard, and Toroko managed to knock him off balance as she body-tackled him. He wasn't hurt at all, but he had lost his footing, and fell to his side from the rush, giving Toroko the opportunity to sprint straight past him and off into the distance.

King scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, but Toroko had too much of a head-start, and was already out of his sight. The rocky spires and cliffs in the village made plenty of hiding spots for her to use, and no matter where King started looking, she'd run to the next safest spot if she saw him coming. He cursed under his breath, looking out over the village, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny he could find from his vantage point. "You're not getting away that easily, Toroko," he promised.

The man walked up to King, looking out over the village with him. King had seen him standing there in the doorway to the reservoir, watching the whole thing play in front of him. "Thanks a lot for your help," he said sarcastically. "Now I have no idea where Toroko is _again_, and she has the key to Arthur's house. I _need_ to get that key; you could have helped me catch her, you know." He gave King an offended look, as if King had said or done something insulting to him directly. "What?" he asked, when he remembered their earlier discussion. "Oh, yes – I told you to stay out of trouble, didn't I?" His face relaxed and he nodded, telling King that he was only doing what he was told. "Well, good job, then…you take orders well. Unlike some others."

King crossed his arms, glancing over the village again. "If that's the case, you can make yourself not totally worthless by helping me find Toroko, and bringing her back. There's no way out of the village that she can reach, so she's definitely here somewhere." He turned from the village to look him right in the eyes, his muzzle curling up into another snarl. "If you hurt her, I'll break you. Just so we're clear." With that, he jumped the gap from the ledge leading to the reservoir, to the top of the central stone pillar, and from there onto an extension of land that held an individual cottage, disappearing into it.

He was no closer to learning much about himself, but now, at least, he had something to do. She looked young and nervous…if he was as young and as panicked as her, where would he try to hide? In one of the spires? Maybe some cranny that he couldn't see? The best thing to do in a situation like that is just to run. So, maybe she just ran as far as she could, for as long as she could?

The stone spires were easily three stories tall, or more. He had no trouble, however, simply falling down from ledge to ledge, quickly and harmlessly falling to the bottom floor. The falling wasn't so alien to him as it was the jumping.

In the far corner of the area was another shelter. It was a shack of some kind, although it had certainly seen better days: half of it was collapsed, though the other half, closer to the wall of the rocky dome, seemed stable enough. He jogged up to the shelter, noticing that the door to it was ajar. Well, anywhere was a good start, really.

Pushing the door to the shack open, there wasn't really a whole lot to see: there was no floor, and instead the ground was just as uneven as the ground outside the shack. There were a few boxes here and there in the building, looking as though they were made of metal, but he couldn't begin to guess what was in them. The oddest feature was a carved stone hanging low from the ceiling. What was it supposed to be? A chandelier? Some kind of pendulum? It was one of the odder features to include in—

"Why, you…!" he heard a voice say. He spun around, searching for the voice, when a small Mimiga, the one he was tasked to find, leaped out from behind one of the boxes. Her eyes were closed, and she was swinging a stick around as if she was trying to put up some kind of fight.

His first instinct was to draw his Polar Star and fire, but King had given a not-a-suggestion to bring her back without hurting her. There wasn't a whole lot of options available to him right off the bat. Fortunately, though, in her desperate offensive, she simply tripped over a rock on the floor, and fell flat on her face.

She didn't have the nerve to get back up; feeling as though she had screwed up her one shot at this, she stayed on the ground, hiding her face behind her hands, whimpering 'save me, save me,' to herself. She didn't know who could possibly come to save her now…except for King.

He walked silently up to her whimpering, quivering form. The poor girl; she probably thought the same thing as the others, and thought that he was in with the Doctor. He couldn't blame her; he didn't even know for certain if he was or wasn't. But it was pretty clear that it would be a bad thing if he was.

"…huh?" she asked, raising her head from her hands, to get a look at her 'attacker'. He looked back at her and smiled; if he put on a positive attitude, then hopefully it'd give her the message that he didn't mean her any harm. "You're…" she began, keeping eye contact with him, "you're not with the Doctor?"

He was worried that his usual strategy when asked that question would frighten her; she looked terrified to even say the title. While it might be dishonest, he shook his head. "Oh!" she said, sitting up to meet him face to face. "My name is Toroko. I'm sorry. You had me worried. The Doctor's such a mean guy." She broke eye contact with him, looking closer to the ground a short distance from where she was sitting. "He would pop into our village and take us away, whenever he wanted. Sometimes, he'd…" she hesitated. "Sometimes, he'd just kill us, right then and there. Like my…my brother. He, he killed my brother…"

She didn't know why she was telling this guy her life's story, but all the same, it felt better to get it off her chest and let the tears flow. She had cried plenty of times, but she had never really talked to anyone about it.

Just as she was drying her eyes, she noticed the silver locket he had gotten from the fisherman at the reservoir hanging tightly off his belt by the strap. "Hey! That pendant," she said, motioning towards it with her right hand. "Did you find it for me? That's a gift from Sue!" He already had both his hands wrapped around the strap, ready to untie it from his belt and hand it to her, no questions asked. But she put her hand on his, stopping him. "You should really keep it," she said – and sounded a little hurt at her own words. "King gets his ears in a knot whenever he sees us get along. I don't kn–"

There was a huge crash at the door to the shack. The whole building shook, and the vibration lifted both himself and Toroko almost right off the ground. Another crash, stronger than the previous one – it felt as though someone wanted to get into the shack _badly_, only without using the door. A third crash, and the door finally gave way, ripping a hole in the side of the shack.

"Huzzah!" a voice bellowed gleefully as whoever was making the noise erupted into the room. He didn't know exactly what to expect; he didn't think a Mimiga had that sort of strength, to knock down a chunk of a building. What was standing there, in the hole it just made, was some…machine? Robot? Or was it a living creature? It had two eyes, each bigger than the man's own head. Its body had a strange rectangular shape to it, looking more like a giant briefcase with arms and legs than anything. Its arms were short and triangular with a rounded edge, containing no hands or fingers, and they appeared to jut out of his body through some slots, or incisions. Its legs were stubby with rounded feet, without any knees or joints – and whether it was wearing shoes or not, he had no idea. He had two decorative yellow markings on his face, going up and down both his eyes in single strips. Whatever this thing was, it was certainly _not_ a Mimiga.

He stood triumphantly in his destruction, savouring his spectacular entrance for the two onlookers. "There you are," he said after a moment, his large mouth forming a giant grin. "You can't hide from me, no no." He put some mock into his tone, talking down to the others, asserting his 'authority' immediately. "I've got the nose of a bloodhound, I do!"

"Indeed you do", came another disembodied voice, clearly feminine. The man had both his hands held firmly onto his Polar Star, though he wasn't aiming it at anyone just yet. Toroko, more confused than she was scared, stood behind him, using him as a shield. She had already planned out the best spot to hide in, in case things got ugly.

The briefcase-with-eyes looked up, knowing exactly where to find that voice in a moment. Following his gaze, he also looked up, and without a sound, a woman simply…appeared, melting into existence, in the air. She floated there for a moment, in a sitting position with her legs crossed, before plummeting to the ground. Her skin was as white as his, though she had no markings on her face. Her eyes were a bloodshot red, narrowed as she judged the people standing in front of her unfavourably. Her oddly-coloured dark-blue hair was kept neat and trim, reaching only to the back of her neck, and she wore a pair of simple pearl-white earrings on each lobe. She wore a light-green, sleeveless shirt and a pair of darker-green, thick pants that reached down to her ankles. In her left hand was a wooden staff with a ball on the end, but otherwise it didn't appear to be too special by itself; there were no markings or anything anywhere on it.

"The nose, and I dare say the brain, as well," she remarked snidely, landing in front of the briefcase.

"Misery," it said simply. Whether that was her name, or if it was just narrating its feelings, he couldn't tell. "I found her first! I get the credit for this one!"

"You," Toroko began, barely managing to get her voice higher than a nervous squeak, "you guys're with the Doctor, aren't you!?"

Misery hummed to herself, looking the Mimiga in the eye, deliberating on her answer. "So, your name is Sue, right?" She said, putting on just as wide a grin as the thing behind her had just moments ago. "The Doctor has called for you." She raised her staff, and pointed the balled end towards Toroko. "Come along, now."

Toroko, confused, sputtered a moment, unable to correctly put her thoughts into words. She _did_ understand that there was a very real threat that she could be taken to see the Doctor if she didn't defend herself. "Uh," she finally managed to say, "I'm not Sue. My name isn't–"

Before Misery could give her the chance to continue, a bubble appeared on the end of the staff, and shot out towards Toroko. It zipped right past him, ignoring him completely, and it captured her easily. "Balrog," she said, levitating herself in the air with the bubble, "I leave the rest to you." And then they both simply vanished, Toroko all the while defending herself feverishly that Misery had the wrong Mimiga.

Balrog stamped his foot angrily. "Not _again!_" he bellowed, understandably irritated that not only is Misery going to take the credit for his find, but he was relegated to clean-up duty _once again_. "I always have to clean up! And here I found her _first!_ Why can't she do the ugly parts for once in her miserable life?" He paused, looking at him, expecting a laugh. "You like that? I thought it up just now. _Miserable_ life? Her name is _Misery_? Get it?" He wasn't in a very laughing mood; the Polar Star was still gripped tightly, though his stare could pierce holes alone. Balrog wasn't very intimidated. "So what's your deal?" he asked, almost casually. "You gonna fight me with that thing?" He tried to motion to the Polar Star with his stubs for arms, though it was an understandably strained action.

He wanted to fight this 'Balrog', sure, if it meant getting Toroko back. But Toroko was with Misery, not him, and he didn't know if the Polar Star was strong enough to get through to this guy. Not to mention, he still didn't even remember his own body that well. So, while he did not holster his weapon, he did not make a move to use it, instead only resolving to use it if he had to.

Balrog could see that he was a little nervous about using that dinky little toy against him. "Heh," he began, grinning again, "if you were, you would have by now. Be happy I'm feeling charitable right now, eh?" And then he simply left. He walked out of his improvised door, and with one titanic leap, was out of sight. He ran out of the shack, trying to keep up with Balrog, but once he got out and back into the open…Balrog was gone. How a thing as large as he was could not only jump so high, but totally vanish in just a few seconds, was a neat trick that he'd like to learn.

He had a whole new problem, though: he couldn't bring Toroko back. What was he going to explain to King? That this 'Doctor' person had taken her? He looked like he was really worried about her; it'd totally crush him if he had to bring him that sort of news. And it was pretty clear that King wasn't too friendly towards strangers in the first place.

"Hey!" a voice called, from a male Mimiga running up to him from the base of the central pillar. "What happened here? That Balrog guy only shows up when the Doctor takes another Mimiga from us. Is everyone okay?" This Mimiga, shorter than King, wore a thick, brown hat, and a pair of glasses with lenses so thick they could hurt a person. He wore a green, zipped-up blazer as well.

He had no reason to distrust the Mimiga, but even still, what he could tell anyone? What could he tell this one? "My name is Jack," the Mimiga introduced himself, and continued, looking a little distraught. "King told me about some other outsider that he asked to help look for Toroko. So, let me guess…they have her, don't they?" All he could do was nod his head. Jack sighed, resting his stressed head in his hand. "That's great, just great. Look, man," he restarted, reaching into his left pocket. "Arthur's house has two keys to it. Toroko had the first one, and this second one," he paused, pulling out a key from his pocket, "was hidden at his grave. Arthur was a fabulous warrior, the best any of us had seen in generations. But the Doctor and his goons managed to gang-up on him, and…well, he has a grave for a reason.

"None of us could hope to compare to Arthur, let's be honest. You don't look like a whole lot yourself – no offence – but someone's at least got to look after Sue. King hates her, and there are no other Mimiga that are even half-prepared for something like that, so…take this key. It leads to that huge house in the back corner." He turned sideways, pointing towards the large house a short distance from the central pillar. "Sue is in there somewhere. Get her someplace safer than this. I'll…I'll go tell King the bad news. Can you do this?" He nodded heavily, still feeling awful about letting them just take Toroko with him there, and accepted the key. Jack, having nothing more to say, began climbing back up the central pillar, on his way to King's house.

Well…even if he felt bad about Toroko, there wasn't a lot he could do about her, at least not now, as much as it pained him to think about that. But there was still Sue, who was still a good friend of Toroko's apparently. He felt a strong sense of obligation towards Toroko, especially since she had entrusted Sue's pendant to him. His identity could wait for now.

Reaching the door to the house – it was practically a mansion compared to the others in this village – the key slid into the lock easily and naturally, and with a turn, the door swung open, revealing to him Arthur's house. Only, Sue wasn't in it. The beds were undisturbed, though there were lots of complicated drawings on the house's only blackboard. There was also a computer; what luck. Hopefully, it'll tell him something about where Sue might be.

On the screen was a few lines of text; nothing saying anything about Sue, unfortunately. It appeared as though there was some kind of chat, or instant messenger opened up on the screen, and the last message received said simply 'But if I have to, though, I really will…'.

An interesting message was displayed alongside the chat, however: it read, _permission granted to access Egg Corridor._ Next to the computer was a large, glass tube – large enough for him to fit in. Some of its lights were blinking and the machine was humming with life, but there was no way to tell for certain if Sue had really travelled to this 'Egg Corridor'.

He gave the house another look over, just to make sure she wasn't hiding. All he found differently the second time were some red flowers in the corner: they appeared crushed, torn and wilted, like somebody was trying to stamp them flat for some reason. Other than that, nobody was here at all.

There wasn't much other option, really; the door was locked, meaning Sue couldn't have left the house, so this teleporter was the only way in or out. There was a panel just outside of the tube, asking for a designated location. It said it was searching for other viable teleportation locations, but so far, it had only found the one in Egg Corridor. Accepting the location as his destination, he stepped into the tube, and before he realized it, he was no longer standing in Arthur's house.


	2. Chapter 2

The corridor was rather aptly named: it was a giant stretch of room, reaching several hundred metres straight in front of him. There were more boxes stacked one on top of the other all over the place, though what the most interesting feature of the corridor was the eggs. Gigantic eggs, each almost as large as Arthur's house, lining either side of the corridor, giving him only a short berth to walk between them. What massive creature could have possibly laid them, and what was supposed to come out, he couldn't even begin to fathom.

Each gargantuan egg was kept securely in an iron cage-like container, lined with bars that would prevent whatever happened to hatch from them escape while allowing others to look in. Each cage had a number assigned to it; the egg closest to him was adorned with the number sixteen. Eight eggs lining either side of the room, going straight down, the 'catwalk' the teleporter stood on one long walk away from a door going into the wall on the other end.

It was quite a sight to see; he was even a little anxious about seeing what kind of creatures would hatch from these eggs. There was no telling when they would hatch, of course, and he had other priorities. Seeing them hatch would have to come second; right now, he had to find Sue.

The corridor was fairly alone, other than himself and the eggs: there wasn't anyone to monitor the eggs, or anything. There weren't even any rats or other vermin infesting the corners. Maybe someone just looked after them on their free time, like, as a hobby or something? After all, somebody had to have brought the eggs here, and number them, and cage them, and everything. His footsteps echoed off the walls – still unprocessed stone, so they were still underground. What lived underground, laid eggs, and was two stories tall?

"I'm not afraidda you!" he heard a young voice, brave and daring, though obviously girlish. Could it be Sue? Another voice came in reply: this one quite a bit deeper, possibly not even Mimiga. It had no speech, communicating in one long groan. It sounded large, but it didn't quite have the volume to be whatever could have laid those eggs. "What's that? You wanna bring it?" The girl was beginning to get pumped, raising her own voice and bolding her tone. "Go ahead and try. Not even my brother's been able to beat me!"

A few thunderous steps reverberated throughout the hall, followed by the 'whooshing' sound of something large cutting through the air. A heavy 'thwump' later, and a small Mimiga came flying out from the left side of the corridor, between the eggs labelled zero-twelve and zero-ten. She hit the ground softly, but rolled and tumbled over and under herself a good few yards before finally coming to a rest in the centre of the hall.

He was only coming up to egg zero-fifteen, so he had some running to do. That could have been Sue that was getting pulverized, after all! He broke into a fevered sprint, needing to get to this girl before she got beat up any more than she was.

Thumping between the eggs the Mimiga was thrown from, a large beast came into his view, looking down at its victim, its mouth agape in a not-quite-a-snarl. It walked on two feet; it was covered from head to toe with silky white fur; its large hands and feet resembled paws, much like those of a rabbit and its ears were large and floppy, reaching down to its neck. It could pass for some perversion of a Mimiga, only its mouth was larger than the girl's whole body, and was lined with vicious, sharp teeth, ready to rip almost anything apart. Its eyes were wide and red, looking almost like King's, down to the slits in their pupils. Peculiarly, it wore a necktie, looking several sizes too small and wrapped almost overpoweringly tightly around its neck. It also wore a pair of green sweatpants, now shorts, and ripped all along its lining.

The beast drew closer to the unconscious girl, and reached down with one of its huge hands, about to get a grip around her. He was still only between eggs zero-twelve and zero-fourteen, but he couldn't let the thing walk away with her. He quickly pulled his Polar Star from his belt, and, aiming at no part of the beast's body in particular, took several shots. The weak windy noise the gun made, like an empty water-gun, didn't exactly fill him with a lot of confidence, but the shots the gun fired were at least having an effect on the beast as they hit.

It reared its hand away, making a pained groan as it felt the light from the gun sear through its fur and onto its skin. It quickly drew its eyes away from the girl, and locked fiercely onto him. He suddenly didn't like this plan; the Mimiga was safe, at least, but this would be his first real test with the Polar Star. He just hoped he hadn't bit off more than he could chew.

The beast made a deafening roar as it charged at him, its mouth wide and its arms craning from side to side as its thunderous feet collided with the paved floor over and over. There weren't many places for him to run and hide, however; he stood his ground, firing at the beast continually, his hopes dropping with the sound every blast made, and rising with every slowed step the beast made. As it got closer, he began to step backward, trying to put more room between him and it, but before he could realize it, it was already in striking distance; as soon as it could reach, it flung its right arm forward, unhindered from all the shots and burns it had taken, and hit him square in the chest with all its remaining might.

He wasn't flung quite as far as the Mimiga from the hit, but he still landed a good distance away. He couldn't waste any time, though; sure, the hit hurt, but if he stayed down, they'd both be done for. Once he stopped rolling, he sprang right back onto his feet, glad he didn't drop the Polar Star from the collision, and resumed firing.

The beast was moaning and making sickly noises with each hit it took from the pistol, though it wasn't about to fall yet. It picked up the pace after the hit, charging back toward him, ready to do whatever it needed to stop him from firing that thing. A lucky shot managed to get it in its left eye, but even then it only faltered for a moment before charging again.

After so many volleys, the beast still hadn't been downed; the Polar Star was obviously hurting it, but wasn't killing it. What did it take to put this thing down? His trigger finger was working hard, squeezing that lever over and over, but other than slowing it down, it just wasn't doing anything to stop it.

Just as it was about to get into striking distance again, it opened its mouth to roar once more. A lucky shot managed to get it in the back of its throat; the beast stopped its charge abruptly, falling harshly to its knees, both hands at its throat as it struggled to make a cough. After a few wheezes and odd, rough breathing noises, drool and blood began to leak out of its huge, open mouth.

Curiously, the beast began to shrink, unable to make any more noise, its eyes watering and turning bloodshot. Its stretched tie easily slipped down its body and onto the floor, followed shortly by the torn, charred green pants it wore. Its claws and teeth dulled and shrank with the rest of it; its fur receded and its ears decreasing. Eventually, it took a more familiar shape of a Mimiga, looking no larger than Toroko, still holding its throat as it finally collapsed on the floor, unflinching.

_That_ thing was a Mimiga?! And he just killed it, with a lucky shot…he wasn't exactly certain what he should think. It was self-defence – it probably would have torn him and the girl apart, or worse, if he had given it the chance. But still, he just watched one of them die in front of him.

That's right, the girl. Sue? Was she alright? He had nearly forgotten about her.

Looking down the hall, the Mimiga that had landed between eggs zero-ten and zero-twelve wasn't there anymore. There weren't many places she could have run to, other than the door at the end of the corridor. Replacing his Polar Star and giving another solemn look for the felled Mimiga, he ran down the hall, towards the room.

His run was long, but fortunately uneventful. The door, marked zero-zero, was unlocked, and was recently opened, judging from the dust marks along the floor in front of it. Grabbing the metal handle and giving it a quick twist, the door pulled open easily.

The girl Mimiga – wearing simply a deep-blue shirt – was standing at a computer terminal, one of seventeen, that was placed in front of yet another egg, labelled zero-zero. It didn't physically look any different from the other eggs, but this one was hooked up to several wires and machines all around it. Perhaps they were life-support systems? This one egg must hold some kind of significance, to have so much more attention than the others. Were the others failures, or abortions, and this one was the only living one remaining?

"'Egg-condition is normal'!" she said to herself enthusiastically. "That's what I like to hear!" She continued reading the message farther down the screen, where the status of the egg stopped suddenly. "Hm?" she hummed, "a password? I don't know of any–" She stopped speaking when he took a step forward; the sound of someone else's footsteps alerted her immediately. She spun around, her fur standing on end, when she realized that it was only him, and not the beast that she stared down earlier. She exhaled. "Did you save me?"

Knowing that he had killed a Mimiga to save a Mimiga didn't exactly sit still with him, but he nodded his head once. "I didn't need your help!" she immediately decried, suddenly rather irritated, causing him to flinch. "He was gonna eat it next time! I would have handled him myself! Somehow!" She spun back around to her computer, grasping either side of the terminal. "Ugh, I hate this stinking island, and I hate every living thing on it!" She took a few deep huffs of breath, then calmed down. "You really helped me out this time," she said calmly, turning back around, putting on her best smile. "So you can't be so bad. My name is Sue, just so you know. But those bats, and those Mimiga, and that Doctor guy, ugh! I just want to get away from here!"

He stood silently, letting her rant and blow off some steam without interruptions. "You see this egg here?" she said, making a grand gesture over her shoulder towards it. He gave a wry smile at her; it was the centrepiece of the room. How could he have missed it? "Yeah, okay, dumb question," she said, answering for him. "But you know what? This egg could very well be our ticket off of this island." She immediately began fuming again. "But the systems regulate when and how it hatches. It's ready, it can hatch whenever…but, we need a password first. That's so stupid, you know? We're busted until we get it." She tried typing in a password, and hit the 'Enter' key – the following line that appeared on-screen was _Password denied_. She tried again, stroking a different set of keys; same result. "Well, crud. If only my brother were here, he'd set things straight."

She sighed, stepping away from the computer to get a better look at the egg. "I've done all I can," she said softly, mostly to herself, "so it looks like I'm done here." She walked past him, heading towards the door, before stopping and turning to face him again. "Are you from around here?" she asked. He wasn't sure how to reply; his earliest memory is waking up in that cave some time ago, but he doubted he was born there. "Doesn't look like it, does it?" He couldn't argue with that; he hadn't seen anyone like him at all since he woke up. "See the words on your cap? That's not a language they have on this island." He hadn't forgotten since he had seen them; the image of the words burned in his mind's eye, clear as day. "Are you lost?" Now, that was a question he _could_ answer certainly: he nodded his head.

"Hey, that's okay. You can come with me. We can get off this dump together; you, me, and Kazuma, my brother. But in return, you gotta do help me do something, okay?" She placed a hand on the knob to the door. "You must have gotten here by that teleporter, right? Take it back to the village. I'll see you there." Then she pushed the door open, and was on her way back.

He was left alone, in the giant room with the single egg, and seventeen monitors. He figured he might as well take a look around while he's there; he had no idea what to expect.

Fifteen of the seventeen monitors said roughly the same things: they were all checking the statuses on the eggs: the sixteen in the corridor, and the one in this room. They were all reading normally, the eggs in fine condition, and some even ready to hatch, once their respective passwords were put in. Two others, however, monitoring eggs zero-six and zero-one, were reporting fatal abnormalities in their own eggs: something had gone wrong with their incubation several days ago, and as a result, whatever was in both of those eggs had passed on.

In the far corner of the room was a bed, without a mattress. That was odd enough, but scattered all over and around the bed were wilted red flowers, not unlike the ones he had seen in Arthur's house. What an odd coincidence…was there some connection to the Mimiga and these red flowers?

Next to the bed was another chest, almost exactly like the one he had seen when he got the Polar Star. Kleptomania wasn't his thing, necessarily…but if he ran into anything stronger than that frenzied Mimiga he had killed earlier with just the Polar Star, he might be in trouble. Plus, it didn't look like that bed had been slept in for ages; if anybody lived here before, they've probably been gone for a while, and they would have taken whatever was in there. Right?

Reasoning that there was no harm in at least looking, he walked up to the chest, and pulled the lid open. Inside was a weapon, a huge one: it had a shoulder-mount, with a scope and several buttons lining its top. On its rear end were missiles; more than he could count at a first glance. It had a shoulder-strap along its bottom, meaning all he had to do to carry it was sling it over his shoulder, then rotate it on top when he wanted to fire.

Who keeps a missile launcher in a chest, right next to their bed? Someone who was prepared, evidentially: the weapon was fully loaded. Just a flick on the lever, and it'd be armed and ready to fire. He considered the implications of appearing in the village with enough firepower to level several houses and destroy their stone pillars and spires, but weighed the risks of not taking it. This island didn't exactly seem like the safest of places to be; it might be a better idea to take this weapon in the long run. Having to make no promises this time, he lifted the missile launcher from the chest, and slung it over his right shoulder. It was surprisingly light-weight…or maybe he was just stronger than he realized? He still had no idea how high he could jump, after all.

Having looked the room over once more, just in case there were any other surprises to be found, he left the room, beginning his long walk back down Egg Corridor and to the teleporter that will take him back to Arthur's.

* * *

The chat program on the computer had been idle for a good while, now, and had disconnected from the network as a result. An easy fix, though; Kazuma had taught her enough programming language to execute basic commands, like how to run a program, for example. A few quick keystrokes, and the line _Connecting to network…_ flashed on the screen, before idling for a few seconds more as it worked. _Logged on,_ it finally displayed. _Executing chat algorithm._

"Kazuma," she said aloud as she typed; it was such a stupid habit, she knew, but she couldn't help but pick it up while she worked with her brother. "Are you there? Are you alright?"

Locked in his shelter, Kazuma could only find so many things to do – sleeping was his favourite pastime. He would tinker with the teleporter next to the desk, or count the tiles on the walls, or see how fast he could run from one end of the room to the other, or bang on the door and cry for help. At the moment, he had been pacing back and forth across the room, keeping his mind on random topics, anywhere from comic book heroes to astrophysics, to keep from losing his mind. He would glance at the computer occasionally to see if the chat algorithm had picked up any activity. When he saw he had finally gotten a response, his heart nearly stopped, although his fingers were typing a mile a minute. "Sue?!" he nearly shouted, thankful that she had _finally _responded. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah, it's really me," she typed back. "Sue Sakamoto. You must have gotten away, too, then? Where are you right now? I found some Dragon eggs. Is Mom with you?"

"Whoa, Dragon eggs? That's some very welcome news. But the door is stuck, and I can't get out. I'm still in this shelter-sort-of-place. The sector code is 'Grasstown'…see if you can run a scan on it from there."

Still? She scrolled back up, looking through the received messages, and read Kazuma's frantic and pleading messages for food and company. _Eating cockroaches?_ She thought, reading that line a second time. _Is he really that hungry! That's so stupid of him!_

"By the way, Mom's not here", Kazuma continued. "I think she might still be with the Doctor. But hey, Dragon eggs, huh? Do any of them look immediately hatchable?"

She'll scold him for eating bugs later. "At least one of them does. But its life-support systems won't hatch it without a password. Do you think you can do anything about that?"

The algorithm suddenly printed out a new line on its own: _Retrieving information from user 'Kazuma'_, it read, and a separate window opened alongside the chat, showing a monotone progress bar that filled almost immediately. _Complete_, it read, almost redundantly, as the bar filled. _Location: Grasstown structure D. Scanning for operational teleporters._ The glass tube that the computer was connected to quickly hummed to life, its many lights flashing as the machine completed its assignment. The control panel, separate from both the tube and the computer, printed the same lines as the monitor as the machine did a search on the given coordinates. Only a moment later, and the machine quieted itself again, having accomplished its task. _Preparing for connection to teleporter 'Grasstown'…done._

The algorithm was inaccessible as the computer did as it was told, so Sue continued when she was able. "Well, anyway, I'm coming to help you. Just wait right there, and I'll be there before you have to eat any more bugs."

Kazuma laughed at her humour. "Yeah, I almost forgot that I was as hungry as I was! You wouldn't be able to bring some food–" Before he could send the message, Sue had disconnected from the network. Oh, well…at least he had something else to think about. "Dragon eggs, huh…?"

Sue faced to teleporter, scratching her chin in thought. "When is that other boy getting here? He's sure taking his time." She was considering going back to look for him, when the front door to the house burst open. She turned to see who had let himself in: King stood in the doorway, with Jack following close behind. King looked none too pleased to see her – that was no surprise, though.

"You're back," he said coldly. It wasn't a welcome. "We've been waiting for you, Sue."

She wasn't too thrilled to see him either. He always treated her like dirt, after all. "Oh yeah?" she asked, putting on a bored expression. "What now?" He'll likely just yammer on about how she wasn't welcome there, and how she's an outsider, blah blah blah. "I'm kinda busy, so if you don't mind, can I hear your 'we don't need your kind here' speech later?"

"Toroko's been kidnapped by the Doctor's henchmen." Sue certainly wasn't expecting him to say _that_, of all things. He quickly got her undivided attention.

"What did you–"

"And we're holding _you_ responsible!" Jack interrupted, and before Sue could defend herself, King had grabbed her.

* * *

In just another blink of the eye, he was back in Arthur's house, exactly where he had left it. Teleporting had an odd, unsettling feeling to it; he didn't really like it. He hoped he didn't have to use it too often in the future.

He had expected Sue to be somewhere close by, though. There was a chat program open on the computer, probably meant for her, since she was the only one living here. He thought that she'd be busy typing away on it, talking with whoever was trying to get a hold of her. But no; instead of Sue, Jack was standing on the other side of the room, looking rather tired. He seemed to be out of breath, and he was rubbing various spots on his limbs, as if trying to soothe them.

"Oh, hey," Jack said when he realized the teleporter had finished, looking him in the eyes. "Awesome rocket launcher, man. Is it new?" He laughed, and nodded. "Did you happen to bring back Sue from wherever she was?" He nodded again, his smile slowly waning. He knew King didn't exactly appreciate Sue, but he didn't know what Jack thought of her. "Good job, man. She's locked up in a cage on the central pillar." His expression changed quickly: he didn't expect King to hate her just _that_ much. To lock her up like some kind of animal, as soon as he was able? "She put up a good fight, too," he laughed, rubbing his arms and shoulders. "I'll be feeling these in the morning. We're hoping we can barter the Doctor for Toroko back, in exchange for Sue, you see." Jack saw his face; he looked absolutely repulsed. "Oh, come on, don't give me that look. It's not very nice, I agree, okay? But Sue isn't one of us. And it's her fault that Toroko was taken anyway. This is what you get when you try to act alone, you know?"

He didn't need to hear any more from Jack; he needed to speak to King, and hopefully take him down from this barbaric exchange.

Arthur's house was almost directly underneath the central pillar. A small hop onto some boxes stacked against the house, followed by a titanic leap _onto_ the house, he was already halfway up the pillar, and could hear Sue's loud, defiant voice battle King's deep, commanding one.

"–this instant!" she scolded, rattling the bars of her cage angrily with each word.

"Hold your tongue!" King shouted back, getting right up to the bars of the cage, snarling and snapping with each of his own words. His right eye was bruised from a lucky shot Sue got in when he captured her. "_You_ are the reason Toroko has been kidnapped! And _you_ will help us get her back."

"Yeah, like the Doctor will listen to me," she replied, indignant.

"It was you they wanted, Sue; they mistook Toroko for you when they took her. Our best chance is to turn you over to them, and hope for the best."

She jumped back at the bars, getting right into Kings face, staring him down. "That's so stupid, you creepy-eyed freak!" she spat. "There's no way that'll work! The most you'll accomplish is losing the both of us!"

"I could care less about you." His words were chilling down to their tone. "Heck, if we don't get Toroko back from the Doctor, I swear I'll tear you limb from limb myself!"

He had heard everything on his climb up the pillar. King had made a similar threat towards himself, but towards Sue? He must really have a thing against outsiders if he's willing to just throw her away like that. "Oh, you," King said, seeing him arrive at the peak. "Good job finding Sue for us. If you had half of that skill a few hours ago, we wouldn't be in this mess. If Sue doesn't work, you'll be next." He was about to interrupt, to say his piece, when King decided that he would rather fume in his home, away from the taint of the strangers.

He was about to pursue, when Sue reached out to him, catching his left hand. "Leave him alone," she said softly, although it was obvious she felt nothing but contempt for King and nearly bit her own tongue as she said her words. "He's such a stupid guy, yeah, but I can understand why he wants Toroko back so badly. When I showed up here…when none of the other Mimiga would have anything to do with me, she alone showed any compassion."

She let go of his hand, looking as though she was mulling something over. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you go in my place?" He looked at her nervously, glancing around the rims of the cage. "No, dummy, not here. To Grasstown. My brother, Kazuma, is hiding in there somewhere, and he needs someone to help him out. I need you to find him, and bring him here. The teleporter has all the coordinates you need; just tell it to take you to Grasstown, and you'll be set. Okay?" He nodded determinately, and quickly began his fall back down the pillar.

Inside Arthur's house, Jack was still there, nursing his bruises, but was otherwise lazing about. He paid him no mind; rescuing Sue's brother Kazuma before the Doctor comes back to the village was his next objective. Jack didn't look like he had a lot to say, anyway; throwing Sue into that cage must have really done a number on his emotions. It was really eating him up on the inside.

He approached the teleporter, already looking a little queasy as he stepped up to the control panel. Sue was telling the truth: the machine had recently picked up a location to teleport to in Grasstown. Two, in fact, although it said that one of them was offline and was inaccessible because of it. The two locations had a good amount of distance between them – hopefully, Kazuma was nearer to the active teleporter than the inactive one.

Punching in the commands for the machine, the tube began to whir to life once again, and once again, he found himself in a totally foreign area before he could even blink.


	3. Chapter 3

Though he was still underground, Grasstown lived up to its name: it was the first time he really saw grass grow in such volume. He had seen patches of it here and there in the village, but the grass here continued for as far as his eyes could catch. It was certainly a refreshing sight: with the constant dull-brown of the village and the dark, metal halls of the Egg Corridor, seeing something as bright and uplifting as grass really helped lift his mood. The air smelt great as well, although, with so much grass, it begged the question on where it got its water and sunlight to sustain itself.

His teleporter was placed just in front of a house at the end of a long field of grassy hills. It looked liveable, but judging from the dust in the windows and the chips in the paint, it didn't seem as though anyone had lived in it for quite a time. Still, he was sent here to find someone, so he couldn't afford to leave any stone unturned: he walked up to the door, and knocked on it twice. There was no answer, but the door swung open, its rusted hinges creaking and shrieking all the while.

The house looked pretty nice, aside from how old and dusty everything looked. Two floors, containing the bare essentials for a house, and lacking things like a living room. A foyer, a mock-kitchen, and upstairs, two small bedrooms. There was an outhouse in the backyard, as well. It was awfully…cozy. But there was no signs of life anywhere.

He walked into the kitchen area, taking a look around to see if there might be any clues about whoever lived here. Most of the dishes and cookware had been undisturbed for longer than he could tell: the assorted ladles hanging off the wall above a cooking pot had cobwebs practically coating each of them. Peculiarly, the pot itself was in much better condition, looking totally spotless; in fact, it looked recently used. It was damp, and there was evidence of a fire underneath it.

He reached under the pot with his left hand, feeling for the materials used to create the fire. Not firewood or drybrush, but charcoal. Most of it burnt white, though he managed to get a good fistful of the unscathed, combustible black stuff. While it wasn't used, it still felt warm, like a fire had been there only recently.

He heard a footstep gently fall from behind him. Without wasting a moment, he pocketed the charcoal in his pants-pocket, and withdrew his Polar Star with his other hand, spinning to face however was coming up to him. Blending into the shadows was a man…maybe? It certainly wasn't a Mimiga, but it didn't look like himself or Misery. It was wearing a green robe and hood, covering nearly its whole head, hiding a chunk of its face. Its mouth was sill plainly visible, and its lips looked normal enough, though its hunched form and oddly textured skin, wherever it was visible, told him that it didn't look exactly friendly.

It did not flinch at all when he drew his weapon and pointed it at him. It remained totally unmoving, as if it didn't even notice him standing there. "Oho," it laughed darkly, its lips curling upwards, revealing uneven, horribly-groomed teeth. "A soldier from the surface?" It spoke its words slowly, and seemed to spit each one. "I had thought the war was over."

Hold on, this thing spoke like it could know who, or what, he was. Recently, with all his efforts going into working for the others, he hadn't really had a whole lot of time to stop and ask people if they knew anything about him; his own identity had taken a back seat. And this thing – whatever it was – might just be able to tell him something. What did it mean by 'from the surface'? What war was he in? Were their others like him? Was there a way out of these endless caves?

He opened his mouth to ask a question, when the thing raised its scaly, misshapen, four-fingered hand to stop him. "I have no answers for you," it said, almost gleefully. "I'm…afraid…that I can't help you," it chortled some more. "I can tell you that there is a town about an hours march from here straight down the fields. You might find what – or maybe who – you are looking for." He kept is Polar Star raised, looking disappointed that this thing didn't know – or maybe just wasn't telling – anything about him. "I have…acquired…the house for myself, since its tenants…left…some time ago," it continued, that creepy smile never waning from its lips. "I'm only interested in the pot, however. My…brethren…enjoy eating their food…raw. And moving. But I prefer the…humane…approach."

He took his eyes off the thing for only a moment, to glance quickly back at the pot. Just what could it have been used for? And it said there were others like it? That eat their food _live_? He turned back to face the thing, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, having melted into the shadows. There was no longer any movement in the house, aside from him; no footsteps, no creaking in the floors, no rusted hinges swinging doors open and closed, nothing. Still, he didn't feel _alone_. It felt as though that thing's eyes were still watching him with every motion he made.

It said that there was a town about an hour away from this place? Well…Kazuma clearly wasn't here. It would be a good idea to start heading towards the town of Grasstown before he wasted any more time. Although, what he wanted more was to get away from this house, before that thing that was watching him got any ideas.

* * *

Its estimate was off by a few minutes, but he reached the town after an uneventful hour's trek through the grassy fields. It was quite a bit larger than the Mimiga village, although it looked almost as deserted as the house at the beginning of the fields. There were bats lining the roofs of the houses, and there were frogs – huge ones – scouring the grassy grounds of the town as well. A wonderful habitat for wildlife, with no shortage of living spaces to choose from, although lacking in many human niceties that would make the place tolerable to live in. The infestations were a problem, too.

Somewhere among all these buildings was Kazuma. It should be an easy task to find him; after all, it's not like he could get lost in a crowd. And according to Sue, he 'needed help', so there was a good chance he was just locked in one of them somewhere. Couldn't be too hard: just knock on some doors, and if someone answers – oh, wait. What if he ran into more of those…things? He didn't appeal to the idea of having to talk with one of those creepy, scaly things again. And who knows if they'll be as polite as the last one.

From his vantage point, high above the town, he had a clear view of everything. There being only one entrance or exit into the town, all the buildings were designed so that their doors were facing it, as if there was only one large street cutting down the centre of the entire settlement. One of the buildings, peculiarly, had no windows anywhere on it: only a single door on one side Well, if a person was here and didn't want to draw attention to himself, that'd be a good place to hide. It was as good a spot to start as any.

Kazuma had ceased his pacing a half hour ago, and was instead lying on the cold stone floor, face-up, counting the tiles on the ceiling for the second time. He knew there were exactly seven-hundred-forty-four tiles there, but he had to keep his mind on something – and he got bored from counting all the seconds until Sue would come to rescue him. His stomach growled fiercely at him once again: it was the thirty-first time it had done that since he had been locked in this building.

He had considered typing up some kind of program on his computer to pass the time. Perhaps a calculator (it didn't even have that), or a random number generator, or a clock, or some kind of tic-tac-toe game, or anything. Or maybe trying to contact Sue again – mostly for giggles, since he knew Sue was on her way and couldn't possibly be at her computer. Or maybe trying to find someone else on this network. It spanned the whole island, after all; there's a chance that _someb–_

Several knocks on the door. Was it–could it be? Had Sue finally arrived and was going to rescue him and feed him and get him away from this building and find their mom and get them off this island and back to their homes on the mainland? He was so excited from the very thought that she was finally _here_ to get him away from all of this caused him to forget how to breathe for a moment. "Sue?!" he called frantically, flipping onto his hands and knees. "You're finally here! Thank heaven! I've been going nuts here without anyone to talk to!" He spoke so quickly and excitedly that he didn't give her a chance to respond. "Sue, go to the crack in the wall to the right of the door. We can talk to each other face to face there. I need to see someone other than my own reflection in the monitor."

He crawled over to the crack in the wall, immediately after giving Sue the instruction. He eyed the opening frantically, desperately waiting for her to show him her face. What he saw instead wasn't his familiar sister – but someone, or rather, some_thing_, else. It wasn't a human; its skin was too sleek and shiny for any human. But it moved like one, and wore clothes like one – it even had hair. Who was this that was knocking on his door?

"Who are you?" he asked, suddenly much more nervous than excited. "You're not Sue. Where is Sue? Are you a friend of hers?" He nodded quickly at that last question. "Oh, you are?" he asked, relieved. He'd be a bit more incredulous, normally, but he was feeling pretty desperate at the moment. "Sue told me she'd be here herself. Why would she send someone else in her place? Does she just not have the time for her brother?" He was going to respond, to tell Kazuma about Sue's predicament back at the village, but Kazuma cut him off again. "Well, you look like a nice young…uh, man," he continued. "If Sue trusts you, than I trust you. Could you help me out of here? I'd really, _really_ like to get out of here." He nodded again. "Thanks!" Kazuma said, a smile beaming on his exhausted face. "I have this key here. I found it on the floor in here when I first got locked in. Try it on the door, will you? There are no keyholes on this side."

Kazuma's hand extended through the crack, his hand balled into a fist as it grasped the rusted key. To be honest, he didn't really expect the key to work on the door anyway. Why would the key to his own door be locked in with him? But it was worth a try all the same, after all.

He extended his own hand, and accepted the key from Kazuma. It was so rusted it looked ready to just fall apart from the slightest shock, although its teeth remained well defined: it could still unlock a door, assuming it held together long enough to survive the turns. Unfortunately, the door didn't have any keyholes on the outside, either. The key must belong to some other building, naturally. The door was rusted shut all the same, though; no matter how strongly he pulled or pushed on it, the door would not move an inch.

"Sounds like its not working," Kazuma yelled through the door. "The key must belong somewhere else, then. Well, that's just great." He pulled the chair from the desk to the door, sitting and contemplating what others options there might be. "I don't have any other ideas, then. We could try to force it open, but it might take more than either of us can–"

"Huzzah!" came a familiar voice from the roof of the building. He looked up, drawing his Polar Star as he saw a memorable figure gracelessly drop down from above. That wide, rectangular shape; those stubs for arms; those giant eyes…

He dived to the side, tucking and rolling back onto his feet. Balrog had specifically attempted to land on him – he was lucky that his reflexes were as good as they were. The heavy landing Balrog made shook the house just behind him, and unsteadied both of their balances, though they kept standing. His kept his hands steady on the Polar Star, shifting his shoulders to reposition the missile launcher on his back.

Balrog didn't look too thrilled to see him, either. His face was flat and virtually unreadable as he eyed the soldier in front on him. "Did _you_ know that the Mimiga wasn't Sue?" he asked, wasting no time, although he didn't exactly seem too torn up about the misunderstanding.

He nodded his head, remembering Toroko's abduction clearly. He still blamed himself for that. "What's this about Sue?" Kazuma asked loudly, suddenly very worried. "What's happened to my sister? Who's out there?"

Balrog glanced at the door to the building, but didn't answer whoever was in it, instead keeping his focus on the soldier. "That's right," he said. "She _wasn't_ Sue! You should have seen the Doctor; he had a _huge_ fit. He was yelling and cursing, and throwing stuff all over the place. He even smacked Misery around pretty hard." He smiled wide, his eyes lighting up, remembering the event fondly. "Poor girl, don't you think?"

He washed the smile off his face quickly, getting back to business. "But after all, we can't defy our master. So goeth the rule." He looked perturbed, spitting out the last sentence venomously. "Anywho, I'm here to break you apart. Doctor's orders, of course. I have your prescription for _pain_ right here. Ya ready?"

Balrog rushed straight toward him, charging like a bull, throwing all his weight behind it. Balrog was _fast_ for a walking briefcase! He dodged to the side, firing off a few shots with his Polar Star into Balrog's casing. Whatever he was, it didn't seem like it affected him that deeply; he just kind of shrugged it off and charged again. Again, another dodge, although it was met with a surprise projectile fired out of Balrog's mouth: a bubble, not unlike the one Misery used on Toroko when they first met. Normally he wouldn't have been too afraid of a small bubble, of all things, although he wasn't aware of just what Balrog was ultimately capable of. For all he knew, he'd burst into flame if he let that thing hit him.

He jumped high, going over the bubble and over another of Balrog's charges, and landed on the side of the building Kazuma was hiding in, grasping a plank of wood that supported the foundation with his left hand. Still holding the Polar Star in his right, he took careful aim at Balrog, and lit him up, firing as quickly as he had before in the Egg Corridor. Balrog met each blast, shaking them all off like before, although his…skin? Armour? Whatever it was, it was singeing and flaking off with each hit; it didn't look like Balrog could actually feel any of those hits.

This new position, away from any threat Balrog could pose to him, was perfect: even if he couldn't feel any of those shots, he'd still have to give up eventually, or die, like the beast in the Corridor. After a few more pot-shots, however, Balrog suddenly leapt up into the air, like he had in the village…and started flapping his arms rapidly, his eyes closed as he focused his effort into the action, as if he was trying to fly. More surprising, though, was that it was _working_, and Balrog managed to at least stay level in the air, nearly perpendicular to him. Just as fast as he could charge on the ground, he flew straight from him, intending to crush him between his heavy bulk and the building.

He was caught off-guard, seeing something as large and heavy as Balrog manage to fly in the air just by flapping its little stubs on its sides. It questioned every natural law he could think of – but now was not the time to really think about the science behind it. Snapping to his senses, he released his grip on the building before Balrog could make his attack, falling harmlessly to the grassy ground as Balrog got a face-full of metal instead.

Kazuma's eyes were glued to the little hole in the wall, trying to pay attention to the action with the little window he was given. It was understandably difficult, however: aside from some random thumping noises and a flash of colour as someone ran by, it was very difficult to make sense of whatever was going on out there. All he really knew was that one of them was talking about his sister before they started to fight.

A huge crashing noise rang through the air, shaking the building from top to bottom, rattling the desk and the tall glass tube, and shaking the dust from the rafters in the ceiling. Something huge had just hit the building, and hard. "Hey, what the–" he yelled, watching the ceiling to make sure nothing was going to fall on him. "Someone's in here, guys! Knock it off!"

He couldn't hear Kazuma's voice, being muffled from the inside of the building, and him running and jumping, keeping his distance away from Balrog, working his trigger finger on the Polar Star for all it was worth. He would have used his missile launcher by now, but it didn't have a whole lot of ammunition to it, and the Polar Star was really leaving its mark on Balrog, so he held off for the time being. Balrog, surprisingly, didn't have any more tricks hidden up his incisions – nothing, like, breathing fire or teleporting or something, to go with his flight. He was also rather predictable: charging, firing his bubble, and occasionally leaving the ground. All easily to counter.

Balrog was having difficulty continuing his fight; he was slowing with each it, and unable to keep his flight up for more than a second. To his credit, Balrog was a smart fighter: he was constantly mixing up his patterns and strategies, trying to get a one-up against the guy. But his physical shortcomings – being too large a target, and only having two options specifically for offence – were dragging him down until he could no longer take any more. He was eventually forced still, too damaged to chase his opponent anymore. He couldn't fall, either: he wouldn't be able to get back up.

"Just what _are_ you?" he asked. He had a limp towards his right side. "Only Arthur's been able to put up a fight like that. You're something else…jumping all over the place, hitting me with that…toy gun of yours. Man…" he sighed, 'bending' at the knees wearily. "It was a bad idea to fight you alone."

"It's a bad idea to let you do anything alone," a female voice chided. She sounded irritated, and her voice cracked a little bit. "It's a miracle you know how to place one foot in front of the other. Honestly, you practically _let _him beat you, Balrog." Both of them searched the area, trying to find the source of the voice – it seemed to come from everywhere. "Up here," she called, only to Balrog. They both looked up, onto the locked building. A snow-white-skinned woman with blue hair wearing green was standing on the edge, looking down at them both, with a wooden staff in her left hand.

"We meet again," Misery said, looking at the soldier that time. From her tone of voice, it was no greeting. "Do you remember me?" she asked condescendingly, knowing that he couldn't have forgotten. "I hadn't noticed before…" She stopped, and suddenly, with a flash from her staff, she faded away from their sight, only to reappear right in front of him again, almost close enough to touch. He kept his Polar Star raised. "But aren't a soldier from the surface?" She paid absolutely no heed to his weapon, as if she knew he wasn't going to fire. "I wasn't aware that there were any left."

"Misery!" Balrog yelled, offended that she wouldn't pay any attention to him. "Watch out, this one's a fighter. Stronger than a Mimiga! Stronger than Arthur, even! He whooped me good!"

"Yes, I know, I was watching. I even _told_ you I was watching. Honestly, Balrog, I sometimes wonder about you. How could the Doctor ever find you useful?"

"I'm sure he was thinking the same thing when you didn't bring back the right Mimiga," he replied brazenly. "Pretty darn sure. I see your bruises have healed nicely." Misery was aptly named; she could make him wish he had never been born, if she could. But, because of the Crown's influence, she couldn't simply pull him apart atom by atom whenever she wanted.

"How dare you!" she practically screeched, twirling around to stare bullets into Balrog. "_You're_ the one who found that useless girl! _You_ said you had the nose of a bloodhound!"

"Heh, and dare I say, just who has the brain of one, as well?" he replied devilishly. He would have been dead twice over by now if it wasn't for the Doctor and the Crown, but that still didn't mean that Misery wasn't going to beat him later – but it was just too good of an opportunity to press her buttons to miss. "The one time clean-up duty was the better choice."

She was so furious at his sudden boldness, that she began to quiver. Her blue hair began to frazzle itself all out of shape, and her grip on her wooden staff was nearly strong enough to cause it to splinter. She raised her staff, and in an instant, Balrog began to glow a pitch-white; he was unable to move or speak, frozen in place by her magic. His normally grey 'skin' began to change colours, slowly turning to a dark green; his face, normally as flat as paper, grew quickly to take a more pronounced snout-like shape, and he suddenly formed a jaw-line. His arms and legs grew exponentially, growing long digits with rounded tips, with strong forearms and thighs. All the while he grew in size, until he was almost as large as the building they were all standing next to. Slowly, he began to take a recognizable shape of an average frog – like the many casually milling around Grasstown. If Balrog could feel pain, he imagined that the transformation would have felt particularly gruesome.

"Soldiers are _your_ duty, Balrog," Misery said calmly, almost enough to be frightening. She began to melt away from sight once again. "Be glad I'm helping your useless self this time. Come back when this one is in pieces." And then she was gone.

Balrog was a big guy, normally, and the beast in the Egg Corridor was fairly huge too, but this thing that Balrog was turning into was the size of a house. Would his Polar Star work against this thing? It might be a better idea to switch to missiles, now…

Once his transformation was apparently completed, Balrog made a few clumsy steps forward – having been used to his new body for all of ten seconds, his movements were very slow, cautious, and laboured. He managed to stay standing, although even sitting still, his balance was all over the place. If he tilted just a little too far to either side, he'd crash to the ground. It'd put him in a tactical advantage if Balrog had, although if he fell on the building Kazuma was in, it'd probably be totalled. The building looked like it was having difficulty standing by itself.

What exactly was he supposed to do? Fight this thing? Balrog was having difficulty _standing_, particularly after beating him so soundly just a few minutes ago. While it was huge, and it could cause quite a bit of property damage in its state, it hardly seemed threatening. Could Balrog even _see_ him? Maybe, if he was quiet, he could just slip underneath him, and maybe shoot the door open, and he and Kazuma could–

A huge, webbed pad came crashing down, missing him by only a few inches. Balrog was looking right at him, and trying his hardest to squash him with his new, enormous size, but because of suddenly having a different pair of eyes, he was having trouble with his depth perception and recognition. He lifted the same pad again, shifting his aim to the right just slightly, and came down again.

He jumped backwards, narrowly dodging the thunderous pad, raising his Polar Star and firing. He had no specific place to aim at: the eyes, while quite a bit larger than Balrog's normally, were still extremely small compared to the rest of his new face. His nostrils were even smaller, so they were ruled out. He could try aiming down its throat, like he had in the Egg Corridor, although his mouth remained firmly closed. Without any other target, his just picked a spot on the frog's giant belly and unloaded a volley of shots. They all made direct hits, but Balrog didn't make a reaction to them at all. It was as if he had missed; Balrog didn't even slow his next swing, aiming for him again.

He widened the gap between them, running as far as the range on his Polar Star could reach before turning to fire some more shots. The same result. Balrog moved totally unnaturally for a frog: he did not hop at all, and instead crawled towards him sluggishly. One pad in front of the other, followed by some weak kicking from his hind legs. He was grunting weakly as he made each pull, trying to drag himself across the ground towards his target. All the while, he was firing shot after shot from his weapon at Balrog, and each shot seemed to simply bounce of his new, tough skin.

The process repeated once again – Balrog getting too close, taking a swing, missing, and crawling towards his target again, while he kept getting stung in the face by that little weapon of his. It was a stalemate so far: him, unable to hurt Balrog through his hard skin, and Balrog, unable to keep up.

He was running out of room to run to, though: Grasstown came to its inevitable end, simply stopping at a wall of stone. To either side of him were buildings; he could probably try to climb up one of them, or attempt to go over or under Balrog if he got too close, but all of his options were too risky for his liking. He had to think of a plan, and fast, before Balrog managed to pull himself closer.

He suddenly felt a wet, slimy tendril wrap tightly around his right wrist, holding him still. He looked to see where it could have come from, and saw that one of the smaller frogs that roamed around the town had him in its grip, apparently feeling the need to help its 'alpha' in subduing his prey. He tried pulling his arm free, but its tongue was much stronger than his arm; it took all he had simply not to be pulled to the ground. He reached for his Polar Star with his left hand, and took it from his right. With some hasty, poorly aimed shots, he managed to get the amphibian on its tongue, causing it to back off in pain and alarm.

He faced Balrog, when he was struck with his own grotesquely large, slimy tongue – apparently getting the idea from the smaller animal, Balrog open his mouth wide and shot out his tongue like a shot. He wasn't sure if Balrog was trying to use his tongue to pull him into his mouth, but even if he wasn't, it was a very effective weapon by itself: the tongue managed to get him right in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain as if he was struck with a tree. The tongue withdrew before lashing out again – he managed to see it coming this time and he evaded another devastating hit, but he was still nicked in the left shoulder, paralysing it with pain for a few moments.

He was backed into a wall, and there wasn't any places for him to hide, or to use to his tactical advantage. Not that hitting him with the Polar Star was working too well anyway. He tried to run to his right, behind one of the larger buildings, having some difficulty getting up speed with his stomach pains. Balrog didn't give him the chance; another devastating strike from that long, prehensile tongue, into his outer-left thigh. He collapsed to the ground, his leg feeling almost shattered from the impact, pulling himself along the ground with his good arm (still holding the Polar Star) and kicking with his legs, much like Balrog was doing.

He felt something dig into his leg in his left pocket, as he collapsed onto it. It felt like a large stone of some kind. Oh yeah, he was carrying around a piece of charcoal – that thing had spooked him in that house a while back, and he didn't think to put it back when he realized he had company.

He was in a pretty desperate spot, but he thought up of a plan with that piece of charcoal. His Polar Star didn't have an extremely long range, which was odd for a gun, but he bet his throwing arm was better than the weapon's. There were a lot of things that could go wrong with this one shot, but he was dead if he didn't at least try. His shoulder still aching from the hit, he pulled himself into a sitting position and reached into his pocket with his left hand to dig out the rock.

Balrog was still crawling slowly towards him, although his earlier urgency had subtly waned with the new trick he had learned. His tongue had retracted, lingering in his mouth for a moment – he wasn't too used to fighting like this, and his sensitive tongue picked up some rather displeasing tastes – before launching again. His opponent looked pretty hurt from the last two hits; if he managed to land another good hit, chances were he would finally bite the dust.

The moment that mouth opened to fire that tongue again, he threw the charcoal as hard as his shoulder could allow him into Balrog's maw. At the same moment, he threw his right hand forward, taking aim with his Polar Star, and firing a shot at the soaring rock. With superhuman aim and reflexes, he managed to land a perfect hit on the charcoal, causing it to burst into flame midair.

Just as the tongue lashed out again, the flaming briquette flew into his mouth, lodging itself underneath the tongue inside his jaw. Reflexively, he inhaled before making some odd croaking noises in an attempt to cough, his tongue stopping just short of the target. He only had a small window to work with: quickly dropping his Polar Star to the ground, he rotated the missile launcher onto the top of his right shoulder. Aiming down its sight and releasing the safety, he fired missile after missile into Balrog's open mouth. Mercifully, he was far enough away from the wall behind him to not be scorched by the back-blast any of the shots made, either.

A number of missiles missed their target – some missed Balrog entirely. But the bulk of his ammunition struck dead-on, blowing out the back of Balrog's throat and ripping apart his jaw from the inside.

Balrog did not die, however. Possibly thanks to Misery's magic, rather than crash, Balrog began his transformation again, but in reverse. His face flattened amidst all the explosions in mouth; his arms and legs shrank and lost all their definition; his slimy green skin lost all its colour and definition as it reverted to its old slate-grey; and he shrunk down to a much more agreeable size. Through the explosions and the transformation, Balrog seemed devastated, physically, with several burns and breaks all across his frame. Once his transformation was completed, back in his familiar old body, he took one look at the soldier – still pointing his missile launcher right at him, still loaded with one or two extra missiles – and promptly turned to run. Even with Misery's help, there was just no way he was ready to beat this guy.

He lowered his missile launcher, seeing Balrog concede the battle. He breathed a sigh of relief; that was way too close for his comfort. He knew, comparatively, he was in _far_ better condition than Balrog was, but at least Balrog could still run. He was having a lot of difficulty just standing; his left leg was still pretty sore. He flipped the safety back on, and rotated the weapon back over his shoulder, across his back. He searched the ground nearby for his Polar Star; thankfully, still in arm's reach. Placing it back onto his belt, he began to attempt to stand under his own power.

He heard running footsteps pat the ground hard, growing louder as whatever was running to him got closer. He looked up, his hand quickly reaching for his Polar Star once again, but did not draw it when he saw it was a human. He was fairly tall – quite a bit taller than himself – and sported green hair. His skin was a fine, light tan, and his eyes were naturally very squinted, hiding the colours of his irises. He wore a long, clean, white lab-coat and a pair of brown pants overtop his red running shoes. "Are you alright?" he asked, running up to the hurt soldier, getting his shoulders underneath his right arm and helping him stand. "I have no idea what happened out here, but it sounded like one heck of a fight, with something huge. All the grass is torn up and everything out here. Are you okay?" he asked again. The soldier buckled underneath his own strength as he tried to stand, but he still managed to give the human a thumbs-up. He wasn't okay at the moment, his stomach still cramping and his leg still tense, but he'd live.

"That's good," he replied, relieved. "My name is Kazuma Sakamoto. You can just call me Kazuma, that's fine." They both began walking towards the building he was locked in just moments ago. "Thanks for busting me out of there. I was keeping my eyes glued to that little hole in the wall, there, trying to keep up with all the action, when the door blew open with a huge bang! Did you do that?" A huge bang? He didn't hear anything out-of-the-ordinary when he fought Balrog…oh, but some of his missiles missed Balrog completely. Maybe they kept going, and managed to blow open the door to the building? What a lucky shot! "Well, whatever, I'm out now. I thought I was going to starve…" Kazuma laughed at himself. "With all this excitement, I nearly forgot that I'm starving! Funny what a little action will do to you, huh?" The soldier couldn't agree more.

"So, what do you know about the Doctor?" Kazuma asked casually. He didn't respond. "I imagine Sue must have told you something about him. I was lucky enough to escape from him some time ago, but, unfortunately, my teleporter sent me here. I didn't have the software to change its coordinates either, so I've been stuck here ever since. It was lucky you came along when you did; I really don't know how much longer I can go without some food." They were approaching the building. Kazuma's plan was to just let the guy rest for a while – he really looked like he use it. "So, what's happened to Sue? She's alright, isn't she? She must have had some reason for not saving me herself, after all…"

Just as they entered the building, stepping over the rusted metal door that had been blown off its hinges, the tall, glass tube in the corner whirred to life. Just like the one in Arthur's house, its many lights began to flash as a steady, low, vibrating hum filled the room. In just an instant, a man was standing in the tube. He had stubby legs and stood shorter than Kazuma by a fairly large margin. He wore a clean, white lab coat as well, although it seemed to be a few sizes too large – it covered his whole body below his neck, so he couldn't tell what colour pants he was wearing (if any at all, frighteningly). His skin was a light Caucasian, with huge ears jutting far out on either side of his skull. He wore thick glasses with red lenses and a white frame: an odd set to use. But the most enrapturing feature of his was his white Mohawk, only a few centimetres tall from his scalp but it may as well have been shining like a beacon on his otherwise smooth dome.

He stepped off the platform, taking a glance around the room, before his gaze landed on Kazuma. Probably. It was tough to tell exactly what he was looking at behind those glasses. "Kazuma?!" he asked, totally bewildered, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Professor Booster!" Kazuma called, just as surprised, though still taking care of the soldier he was shouldering. "You're safe!"

"Yes, more or less," said Professor Booster. He looked around Kazuma, paying no attention to the injured soldier he was helping to safety. "And how is Sue? I noticed that she had escaped as well. Is she alright?"

"She's safe at the Mimiga village," he replied, helping the soldier to sit in the only chair in the building. "I've had a chance to speak with her over the network. She sounds okay. Once this guy's managed to catch his breath, we were going to head back."

Professor Booster took a look at the soldier. He was rubbing his stomach and his left thigh, trying to calm their pain. His face didn't say that he was in too much pain, though. He either healed pretty quick, or he was just crying wolf. But something else had caught Professor Booster's eye, causing him to gasp in surprise, stepping forward to get a closer look at him.

"Have you two met?" Kazuma asked. Professor Booster never reacted like that when he saw somebody new; maybe they had known each other when they were all still on the surface.

Professor Booster looked him over, eyeing every detail on the soldier as he could. The clothes, the hat, the hair, and most peculiarly, the skin, and the grooves on his face. The soldier made no sound, looking Professor Booster back in the glasses. Neither of them had an unfriendly expression, although he wasn't too comfortable with the Professor looking him over so diligently like that. "No…" Professor Booster began, sounding uncertain, as if he wasn't totally sure of his answer to the question. "No, we've never met. Never mind, in fact. We must hurry and find Sue. The Doctor has begun gathering the Mimiga; she could be in serious danger. I have reason to believe that he has become aware of the red flowers."

Kazuma looked unsure. "But, Sue isn't…will she be affected by the red flowers as well? Just like all the other Mim–"

"Kazuma," Professor Booster immediately snapped, silencing Kazuma immediately. "The Doctor has begun gathering the Mimiga." He sounded much more stern as he repeated himself. "You do know what that means, don't you?"

"Do you mean the war? Do you really mean he…?"

Professor Booster stepped forward, practically reading Kazuma's mind. "Precisely. We have no choice _but_ to stop him. The guy's totally lost it."

"Stop him? But how? Have you seen what he's capable of?"

"I have an idea. But all this can wait," he finished, turning towards the door. "For now, we must find Sue, and quickly. We'll talk then." As he walked by the soldier, he grabbed him by the collar of his tank-top, pulling him up from the chair. He had a lot of arm strength for such a little guy. "You're coming too. You can walk it off." If Professor Booster was always this bossy and pushy, they were in for a long walk back.


	4. Chapter 4

"So we're…weapons?"

"That's right." Sue had nothing to hide from King and Jack; she had successfully talked them into giving her a chance to explain herself before they made any hasty decisions. The three of them were standing atop the central pillar; Sue was standing outside of her cage as she told them what she had learnt. "The Doctor wants to use the red flowers to make you guys attack the humans." She looked tired, as if she had been speaking for some time.

"Why–" Jack sputtered. It was a lot to take in. "Why would he want to do something like that?!" King stood silently, taking in Sue's whole story. A lot of her facts matched what he had seen first-hand. He wanted to disavow her whole tale, but that was just his bias towards outsiders speaking.

Sue hesitated on her answer, trying to drum up the appropriate words. "That man is…" she started, before hesitating again. "Well, he's like a demon. The way he moves and talks – I can't even begin to imagine what he thinks. As far as I know, he's just doing it for the giggles."

"And he's going to use those flowers on Toroko?" Jack pressed.

"As far as I can tell, actually, he's still looking for them. He hasn't _found_ the flowers yet; he just knows what they do. We can only hope that he will _never_ find them."

"If…if he finds those flowers, then Toroko…"

"She'd go wild. She'd become an unstoppable killing machine, with no way to bring her back from her rampage alive. I've seen it happen once already."

"Over my dead body!" King shouted, suddenly indignant. "I'll never allow that to happen!"

"'Over your dead body', huh?" she asked, with no trace of snide or wit. "If the Doctor finds those flowers, he might just hold you to that."

* * *

He was the last one through the teleporter at the opposite end of Grasstown. The return trip had taken quite a while longer than the first time: he was injured, Kazuma was famished, and Professor Booster was old. He had begun to feel back in top shape towards the end of the journey, at least. His stomach felt fine, and his leg didn't sting, as if he was never hit.

"Ugh," Professor Booster groaned, arching his back to snap some kinks in his spine back into place.

"Are you okay, Professor?" asked Kazuma a little lethargically, like he knew the answer already and Professor Booster was just fishing for responses.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied, rolling his neck and feeling all its joints snap loudly as well. "I just hadn't gone on such a long walk since we got here. It's been a while, and I've been locked in that lab for so long, and all."

"I'm a little out of shape too," Kazuma said over his shoulder, searching the house for some source of food. A fridge, or maybe just some vegetables lying around, or something. He knew there was a farm in the village somewhere, but if he didn't have to walk that far for food, he'd take the alternative.

The front door to the house flung open, and a small Mimiga was standing there on the other end. She had to stand on her toes to reach the doorknob. "Kazuma?!" she asked, surprised less by the fact that there were people in the house and more by the fact that her brother was among them. She was looking a little perturbed when she entered; her expression quickly lifted when she saw her brother, alive, but looking a little pale. He must not have been joking about the 'cockroaches' thing. "And Professor Booster, too!" She wasn't expecting to see him at all; that was certainly a welcome surprise. Now, if only their mother was there with them.

"Oh!" yipped Professor Booster, jumping in surprise from hearing Sue's voice. "Sue?!" he asked, stepping forward to get a better look at her.

"Sue!" Kazuma yelled excitedly as well, quickly running past the professor and up to his sister, bending down to give her a hug. "I was worried, Sue! When you weren't responding in the chat, and when you didn't show up in Grasstown, I was really worried!"

He got a look at the reunited brother and sister sharing an embrace. Kazuma was a fairly tall human with tan skin – Sue was a smaller-than-average Mimiga with fluffy white fur. How, exactly, did that work?

"You're safe too, then?" Professor Booster asked.

"Well," she began, letting go of Kazuma to look over her shoulder. King was right behind her. "More or less, really." They both showed themselves into the house, King closing the door behind him. He said nothing and made no attempts at making introductions; in fact, he looked a little sour now that he had even _more_ outsiders to fret over.

"Who is that?"

Sue turned to face King, expecting him to introduce himself. He instead turned away, refusing to look anyone in the face. Sue sighed irritably. "That's King," she said flatly. "A, uh…friend of mine, here in the village." There was no other way to describe him, right at that moment – if she told them about he had locked her up and planned to trade her to the Doctor for someone else, they would have reacted badly. "There used to be tons of Mimiga here, but nearly all of them have been kidnapped by the Doctor's goons. Now there's only four or five of them left. King's lost a lot of his buddies, too…" She turned, hoping that would get a reaction out of him. Not so much as a twitch.

She noticed the soldier was still standing in the teleporter, behind Kazuma, who was busy clicking away at the teleporter's monitor once Professor Booster had pushed him aside to speak with Sue directly. He was trying to find some coordinates, much like the ones that connected the teleporter to the Egg Corridor and Grasstown, but to where, he had no clue. "Oh, hey you!" she said casually once she noticed him. "It looks like I owe you another one. Now that we have my computer-genius brother here, we should be able to crack the password to that egg in the Egg Corridor, no sweat." She faced Professor Booster again. "Booster, can we take this little guy with us when we go?" 'Little'? He was twice her size!

Professor Booster remained silent, his face contorting as if he were thinking of an answer. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking behind those glasses of his. "Professor," Kazuma called, to remind him that he had to answer when he stalled for a moment. Sue wasn't expecting such a pause – she couldn't think of a reason why not.

"Sue, my dear," Professor Booster began, choosing his words carefully, "we have to suspend our escape. The Doctor has located the red flowers."

"What?!" Sue asked in shock.

"What?!" King yelled at the same time, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

Professor Booster sighed. "He doesn't _have_ them yet, but now, it's only a matter of time. They're in the Sand Zone somewhere."

"The Sand Zone?" King confirmed. "You mean, that's where we'll find the Doctor?" He knew where he was going next.

"Not likely. You'll probably find his lackeys in his place." He expression hardened, looking quite serious, even with those thick, rose-red glasses. "If we don't destroy those flowers before they can get their hands on them…well, it's not hard to figure out. King, I assume Sue's filled you in?" King nodded, choosing not to speak to another outsider if he didn't have to. "In any case, the Sand Zone is exceedingly dangerous. Even supposing we made the trip, there's no guarantee that we would return alive."

"Then you're giving up?" asked King, blunt as ever.

"Look at me; I'm an old man. I barely managed to walk my way out of Grasstown; do you really think I would stand half a chance in the Sand Zone? I can't make that trip, no way. But," he continued, turning to the soldier, "one of us is equipped for the job. And that'd be you." That came as no surprise to him, honestly.

"Who _is_ this guy, Sue?" Kazuma asked. "He's no Mimiga and he doesn't look particularly human…"

"This," Professor Booster proceeded, "is one of the armed scout robots that were dispatched to this island some-ten years ago."

"A robot?!" Kazuma asked, surprised. He wasn't the only one; Sue was caught off-guard as well, but the one who was totally astonished the most was _himself_. His identity hadn't been such a high priority for some time, now, and he nearly wound up forgetting about it. A robot? It would explain why he hadn't met anyone to compare himself to yet, and how he managed to recover so quickly from his fight with Balrog. Maybe even his wicked aim with the charcoal could be explained by him having inhuman reflexes.

"My impression was that they had been completely wiped out, but I do not know the particulars. It's been ten years, after all. It's entirely possible that one of them could have…"

Professor Booster stalled again, reconsidering his next sentence. "Professor," Kazuma said, interrupting the silence. "I've managed to find a teleporter in the Sand Zone."

"I see." He faced the soldier again. "You are the most suited to exploring this island. I know you don't owe us any obligation, especially after saving Kazuma from Grasstown, but, do you think you could?"

He was already starting back for the teleporter. His eyes were off into space, though; he was reflecting on his newfound knowledge that he was a robot. His awesome jumping skills, and his ability to see in the cave when he first woke up when there wasn't any light (so far as he saw) could've been explained that way, as well. It meant someone had created him for something. Ten years ago, the Professor said? What had happened on the island ten years ago that he might know about? And for that matter, how is this place an island? He's been in one cave after another ever since he woke up.

He wordlessly stepped into the teleporter without pinpointing his location on the control panel on the outside first. Kazuma had punched the numbers in for him; with a flash from all the teleporter's lights and a steady purr from the machine as it came to life, he was gone. "What a selfless guy," he remarked. "Now then, what is there to eat around here?"

* * *

The Sand Zone was aptly named, so far. There was no solid ground underneath his feet as he stepped off the teleporter – just soft sand that shifted under his weight with every step. The familiar, unprocessed stone walls had taken on a slight dark-green tinge to them, quite unlike Grasstown's sea-blue.

The teleporter was placed in a dark corner, away from the supposed dangers of the area. Still, it was an odd spot to place the machine: no houses or anything for anyone to live in to maintain the machine. No landmarks, no obvious signs of life anywhere nearby, aside from the teleporter itself, of course. Well, in any case, it was time to–

Off in the distance, just a few yards ahead, was a person. He couldn't make out any particular feature in this light and in this distance, but judging from the long, wavy blonde hair the person sported, it was likely female. She wore a pink tank-top and thick burgundy pants – hey, wait, _he_ was wearing a tank-top and thick pants. When she heard footsteps from behind her, she turned to see who it was. He still couldn't make out any specific features, but he could tell that her skin was a stark white – just like his! She even had those receptor-things on her ears! Was she another robot, like him? Did they know each other? Did she remember anything about their past? He _had_ to speak with her!

She, on the other hand, looked rather apathetic at seeing a fellow robot. Without making so much as a sound, she simply turned around, and ran out the only exit to the dead-end cave that housed the teleporter. Maybe she didn't see him? Or maybe he was seeing things? He had to make sure!

Breaking into a fevered sprint, he ran out of the small cave, and found himself in a much larger one immediately. Very tall, like the roof of the cave in Grasstown, although with considerably less buildings. Just the one, off in the corner, that had an odd, red neon sign above its door, taking the shape of a wine glass. At first he thought it might have been someone's house at one point, but, maybe it was some rest area for workers? Like, a bar, or something? Whatever, that wasn't important at the moment: he spied her walking through the door to the building and disappeared inside. He wasted no time in following.

The inside of the building had sand for a floor, still. The girl was in plain sight, speaking to four small, young-looking Mimiga, each wearing the same lime-green dress, very softly, as if she was warning them of something. When he came into the house uninvited, they all turned to stare at him at once; the girl followed their eyes and into his. She had a very…enrapturing bright-blue set, and the string of a necklace was clearly visible around her neck. "Oh!" she said, loud and drawn out, like she was trying to surprise him. "We have a _visitor._" She said that last word with some vitriol…was he unwelcome here? He just needed to ask a few questions, and he'd be on his way. "I know what it is you're looking for," she began, her volume rising, confusing him further, "but wake up! Mimiga aren't your enemies!" What? Enemies? How did this happen? What's going on? Where did Kazuma teleport him to? "Mimiga are harmless!"

He opened his mouth to speak, to stand up for himself, but she quickly cut him off. "Too bad for you, but," she said, reaching into her belt with her left hand, and drawing a large, red automatic rifle. It was quite a bit larger than his Polar Star – how did he miss _that_?! "But I'm on _their_ side! You're going down!"

Clearly, diplomacy was not her strong suit. Without being given the opportunity to explain himself, she began to open fire, shooting more rounds than he could count in just a few seconds. Lucky for him, however, her aim was terrible, firing off to his side and spraying the bullets towards him, giving him a huge opportunity to dodge to the side and draw his own weapon. Just as he did, however, all four of the young Mimiga pounced him at once, attempting to pin him down to make an easier target for their adoptive 'mother'. He couldn't fire on the children, obviously, but he couldn't just let them hold him still while she filled him with ammunition. He instead shook his arms and kicked his legs violently, shaking the kids off him.

With one of them still clinging tightly to his neck, and ducked and ran to the left, away from the oncoming spray of…hold on, that thing wasn't firing bullets. The sound the weapon made as each shot left the barrel was similar to the 'fweet' noise his Polar Star made whenever he pulled the trigger. Could his weapon and her weapon be related somehow? Were they both made by the same gunsmith?

Nonetheless, he took aim and opened fire. His aim was considerably better, each of his shots landing direct hits on very parts of her body. She flinched and recoiled with each hit, but wasn't about to go down so easily: she took aim again, and opened fire with another spray, hoping to at least get in a few hits. Again, no such luck – in fact, if she was any less careful, she could have gotten one of the children in her fire.

He had managed to shake off the kid still stuck to his neck, keeping up his barrage on the girl. He wanted to end this fight quickly; if he wanted to ask her any questions, he'd need her alive, after all. Raising his weapon to his eyes, he took careful aim at her wrists, and managed to land a perfect shot on her left hand, which was supporting the weight of the weapon. She withdrew her hand in pain and alarm, releasing the weapon – and was promptly tackled to the ground.

He sat on top of her, legs on either side of her waist, his Polar Star pointed threateningly between her eyes. She looked afraid for a moment when she came back to her senses, but quickly resigned. "You win," she said sadly. "Are you going to kill the Mimiga, just like all the other robots?"

_That's_ what they were on the island for? To _kill_ the Mimiga? He's been spending all his time helping them out, instead. They seemed so harmless, too – why would anyone see them as such a huge threat that they needed an army to deal with?

He answered his question by widening his eyes, shaking his head vehemently, holstering his Polar Star, and getting off her. He extended his hand to help her stand, as well. She looked very surprised, and then quickly embarrassed: this whole thing was just a brash misunderstanding on her part. Now that she thought about it, she was the first to fire, and he hadn't so much as said a word. "You were never here to hurt them?" she asked, just to be sure. He put on a smile and shook his head, his hand still outstretched. She finally accepted it, and was pulled to her feet.

"That's right," she said confidently. "There's nothing bad about them!" She let go of his hand, smiling back at him. "My name is Curly. Curly Brace. What's yours?" Oh…that's a good one. He couldn't remember his name when he woke up, and nobody had ever really asked him for one. He was suddenly put on the spot to come up with a name. "What, you don't have one?" she asked sarcastically. He looked back at her apologetically. "Whoa, seriously? You don't have a name?" He shook his head sheepishly. "Well, that's no good. I can't just go around calling you 'hey you' or 'that guy', can I?" She placed a hand to her chin, thinking for a moment. "Well, if you don't have a name, I'll just think of one for you. How about Quote? You look like a 'Quote' to me. How does that sound?" He opened his mouth to respond, and, just like last time, she cut him off again. "Great! Quote it is!"

The four young Mimiga were still on alert, but they trusted their 'mother', and if she was acting friendly towards this stranger, then there was no need to pick any more fights. They had all gathered around the two – two of them taking to poking around Quote, pulling at his pants and shirt. One of them nearly managed to sneak his Polar Star out of his belt while the other was fiddling with the buttons on his missile launcher, before Curly scolded them about it. The other two stood just behind Curly, seemingly hiding from him.

"Sorry," she said courteously, "they can be easily excitable. When I woke up, I was with them, and I…I dunno, I guess I sorta adopted them. I don't have any memories before that, though…amnesia, you might say. Are you the same way?" Quote nodded, looking disappointed – he knew what he was, and now he had a name, so he'd been making a great deal of headway, personally. But his best lead for finding out about his past was dashed when she mentioned amnesia. He could only imagine that she was having the same troubles, as well. "I was…" she stopped, closing her eyes sadly as she gathered her thoughts. "I was probably a Mimiga-butcher, just like the other robots. It's not something I like to think about."

She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the Polar Star resting on his side. "You handled that Polar Star awesomely," she lightened, changing the topic immediately, shaking the hand he managed to shoot. "I haven't really gone too far from the house ever since I woke up, so I haven't really had that much practice with my machine gun, here…" She patted the red rifle on her side. "You could probably really tell, huh? Good thing, maybe. I might have torn you up if I was any better." She laughed light-heartedly at the idea; he was a little less than enthusiastic about it. "What do you think about trading, huh?" she asked, catching him off guard. "My machine gun for your Polar Star, what do you say? I could use the experience, starting with something a little more my level."

He withdrew his weapon, taking a look at it. It was certainly faithful, but…imagine how easily things could go for him if he had that machine gun! They seem to use the same 'ammunition', as far as he could tell. A pistol for a machine gun, no questions asked. What a deal! But then he thought of the poor, old man back when he first woke up. He had, by all rights, stolen the gun from him in his sleep, and he had hoped that maybe he could return it to him some day. But…he had fallen from the sky, and into Mimiga village. He didn't know how he was going to ever get back up there.

Ultimately, he turned the Polar Star around, offering Curly the grip of the weapon. "Hey, good choice!" she said, accepting the weapon and offering the butt of her own machine gun to him. It had a small mount to be placed on the left shoulder near its barrel, and a hook closer to the trigger to hook onto his belt, so that he didn't have to carry it around in his hands all the time. He'd probably have some trouble breaking out of the habit of reaching for the pistol at his waist, but that aside…he couldn't wait until he met Balrog again.

"And hey, as for that missile launcher," she said, pointing to it once she had placed the Polar Star in her own belt. "It's looking a little low on the missiles, there. When I woke up, I was lying right next to a cache of them in the room just to the side, there." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, towards a door Quote hadn't noticed before. "I don't know what I was doing with them, especially since I didn't have anything to use them with. And I don't think I want to know, either. You can take them, if you like."

He accepted her invitation, entering the room. It was a small bedroom, containing a bed with thin wool sheets and some empty shelves in the corner. A small white dog was sleeping on the bed, lying on his back, his legs kicking and twitching occasionally. At the foot of the bed was a small cache of missiles, just as Curly said, and they appeared to be the same type and make that his launcher had used. At first he thought it was a pretty incredible coincidence, but, if what Professor Booster had said was true, about him and Curly being on the island for at least ten years, then chances were he was just using hand-me-downs from the past. That would make them antiques: he was surprised the things still exploded.

He reloaded the launcher with only two missiles left over. It felt nearly natural to him, opening the launcher's many chambers and loading the warheads securely into its mechanisms, despite this being the first time he did it, as far as he could remember. Muscle memory, perhaps. He slung the huge weapon over his right shoulder – the sudden weight of the weapon caused him to lose balance, tripping and falling over himself and into the wall of the room. The metal linings of the room appeared to be bolted securely into place, though, so he didn't really make too much of an effort to steady himself.

With a deep, soft thud, he hit the wall to the side, which caused the sheeting to give way underneath the sudden impact. It collapsed backwards, bringing him down with it, revealing to him a small hidden room, the size of a closet. In fact, that was exactly what it was, just a closet, and he had accidentally knocked over its door.

He pulled himself up from the floor after recovering from the surprise, and dusted off his pants. He looked in the closet, not really looking to find anything. The space wasn't nearly as dusty or had nearly as many cobwebs as he had expected; had Curly known about this little room?

In the far end of the closet was a small drawer, holding a pair of compartments, one on top of the other. It didn't reach up to his waist, and was only just wide enough for the closet. What could a person hide in such a small box? And why try to hide it in a room like this?

The allure of what could be in the drawer gnawed on his mind suddenly. He always felt awful, poking into other people's belongings and then taking what wasn't his…but both times, he had uncovered something that had managed to save his life in a close call. Why not give it a look? He might be surprised by what he found.

He pulled open the shelf to the bottom drawer first. It was empty, peculiarly. Closing it, he opened the top drawer, finding some clothes that had been recently washed and pressed, and folded neatly in place. A pink tank top, some thick, burgundy pants, some white socks, and…underwear. A pair of yellow-green panties with a charming insignia on the front. He was certainly surprised by the find, that's for sure. He folded them back up as neatly as he found them, then gently replaced them in the drawer, before closing it. As he left the closet, he pulled the thin sheet of metal back up, closing the wall as securely as he could, doing his best to make it look undisturbed.

Just as he felt satisfied with his cover up, he turned back to the door, seeing that the dog had awoken from his sleep, and was eyeing him playfully, its tail wagging a mile a minute. It probably saw the whole thing. Quote looked at the dog, bringing his right index finger to his mouth, making a quiet shushing noise with his lips. It'd be their little secret.

Back into the main room of the building, the children Mimiga had taken to sitting in the far corner, playing some game involving marbles. Curly looked at him and smiled, apparently not hearing the commotion in the back room. "So, stranger, what brings you to my edge of the cave?" She asked. "There isn't a whole lot to find in the Sand Zone. There's sand, and a whole of exotic animals and creatures I guarantee you won't find anywhere else, and the sand, but I somehow doubt you're here to sightsee. Other than all that, there's pretty much nothing here…there's the old witch Jenka and some big warehouse she guards. Oh, and I don't mean that negatively: she actually refers to herself as a witch. She won't tell anyone what's in it, though."

He looked at her inquisitively, wondering what could be in that warehouse. If the red flowers were really as dangerous as Professor Booster had made them out to be, then keeping them under lock and key indefinitely would be a good idea – next to incinerating them, he guessed. This Jenka woman might be able to help him out, then.

"Ah, I know that look," Curly giggled. "If you want to talk to Jenka, just head down the sand strip straight ahead from the door. The cave will twist you around to her place eventually; just keep following the sand. I'd take you there myself, but somebody needs to look after the kids. The Sand Zone isn't the safest place ever, you know. Don't be afraid to get some work in with that machine gun."

Quote smiled at her, nodding and waving as he walked back towards the door. How tough could it be?

* * *

Curly was right about a lot of things. Jenka's house was right in the path: he couldn't have missed it if he wanted to. There was even a sign on its front lawn that said, simply, 'Jenka's House'. Just off in the distance from Jenka's was a larger building with no windows – probably the warehouse that Curly had mentioned, with the red flowers inside.

Curly, and Professor Booster, were also correct about Sand Zone being a dangerous place. Many of the animals in the area were extremely predatory, and seemingly just fought each other all the time. Not necessarily over food, either: they just seemed to fight. There were a lot of odd-looking creatures everywhere: from deep-green hummingbirds that were nearly twice his size; to some kind of reptilian species that looked as though they were strictly skin-and-bones; to another reptilian species strongly resembling crocodiles that dwelled only within the sand, looking much meatier than the others; to some kind of grotesquely large stag beetle species that roamed the surfaces freely.

How they all managed to co-exist as they had in the Sand Zone was beyond him. He had to fight off several of each of the beasts, some of them thinking that maybe he'd make a decent dinner, while the others might have been territorial, with still others might have just been looking for a fight. He was getting tired from having to dodge jaws and wings so often. The machine gun had certainly been getting a decent work out already. His trigger finger with the Polar Star might not have kept up with so many onslaughts.

Dirty, cold, and tired, he placed the machine gun back across his left shoulder before dusting himself off and knocking on the door. Curly said that Jenka fashioned herself a witch, right? So, then, he wasn't totally clear on what he should expect. Would she be green-skinned with a huge, hooked nose and warts all over? Would there be a cauldron in her room, boiling up some kind of stew filled with unimaginable ingredients? Would she have a thing for cats? "The door's open," an elderly woman yelled, not-unkindly inviting him in. He turned the knob on the door and allowed himself into the building.

The house seemed extremely simple: two floors, but only a handful of rooms, each sparsely furnished. She had a rocking chair, a bed, and a fireplace, and…not much else. A few windows, but they didn't have curtains. An iron stove, as well, for cooking and boiling. It was all very normal. Jenka herself was sitting in her rocking chair, gently rocking it back and forth. Her skin was a very deep tan, and she wore a green overcoat on top of a black knit sweater, and a long, darker-green dress. Her white hair was held in a top-knot, and she wore thick glasses that could put Jack's to shame. Other than that…she was just an elderly woman. Hardly what he expected a witch to look like. Maybe Curly was exaggerating? Or maybe Jenka was nuts?

She was smiling at him when he first walked in, pleased to finally have visitors after so long, but once she got a look at him, she quickly turned that smile into a scowl. "You're from the surface," she said bitterly, her eyes behind her wide glasses digging into his soul. "From that war ten years ago. I know what you're after, and you're not going to get it." She reached for her cane with her right hand, and pulled herself up from her chair. She was hunched, and she walked slowly, but her body language and her tone of voice said that she was confident, and angry.

"I don't think you quite grasp what those flowers do to a Mimiga," she said, waving her left index finger at him. But he _did_ – he had seen it himself in the Egg Corridor. He nearly managed to get a word in, when she cut him off, seemingly reading his mind. "I don't care what your story is. Maybe you've forgotten, but I certainly haven't: it was ten years ago that hundreds of robots like you came to this island. Countless Mimiga had died back then, as did the humans that tried to protect them, when you and your soldiers shot them all down. And when the Mimiga were cornered, they ate the forbidden red flowers, and in their murderous rage, they struck back. Seeing as you're still here, I imagine you weren't a part of that particular battle.

"Had the red flowers not existed, the entire Mimiga population would have been wiped out. The cornered Mimiga had hoped that the red flowers would grant them strength. They ate them, and then they fought the robots…but, can you imagine what happened to them afterwards? The enraged Mimiga, unable to control their own actions, disappeared without a trace. If the rumours are to be trusted, they descended to the surface – they just jumped down – towards the humans. An army of ferocious Mimiga loosed upon the Earth…"

Quote understood why she was keeping the flowers locked up. He had enough trouble from that one berserk Mimiga in the Egg Corridor. He couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to fend off an entire _army_ of them. She was keeping them locked up, to prevent the same disaster from happening again. But, on the other hand, that's exactly why he _needed_ to get to them: the Doctor wants the flowers to unleash the exact same thing again, and he needed to get into that warehouse to destroy them all.

"I can't give you the storehouse key," she breathed, calmed slightly now that she had vented her frustrations at him a bit. He kept giving her this innocent face, that said to her 'I don't want that to happen either, but I need to get those flowers anyway'. "I don't care who you are, but you're not getting it. If you, or anyone, opens the storehouse again, then the same tragedy would just play over again. Not you, or Misery, or–"

"Huzzah!"

With a huge crash, Balrog came straight through the ceiling of the building, hitting the floor hard among all the shattered wood and stone and debris that came with him. Quote immediately drew his machine gun, aiming straight down the sight at Balrog, ready to fire the moment the briefcase made so much as a twitch.

"You always do such nice patch-jobs on your house, Jenka," he laughed. "It's always so satisfying to bust through." Balrog hadn't missed Quote, standing there with the red machine gun pointed right between his eyes. He was going to make a witty remark about the weapon, but decided against it – Misery and the Doctor had patched him up after that beating in Grasstown, but now his gun was quite a bit bigger than last time, and, well, maybe picking a fight wouldn't be such a good idea at the moment. "So," he said, back to Jenka. "How are things?"

"Ah, Balrog," Jenka replied casually, not the least bit mad, or even surprised, about her new skylight. "I see you're doing well."

"No thanks to Mighty Man with the big gun, here. He's a pretty vicious fighter; I couldn't come close to beating him, even with Misery's help."

"Speaking of Misery, how is my half-wit of a daughter doing?" Jeez, between Jenka and Balrog's witty mouth in Grasstown, Misery didn't seem to be especially popular. Also…if Misery can turn Balrog into that hideous, giant frog in Grasstown with hardly a thought, just what exactly could Jenka do?

Balrog giggled girlishly when he heard Misery's own mother put her down like that, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, she's fine. Just fine! I'm sure her teeth are growing back nicely after that beating the Doctor had given her earlier." He was exaggerating over how badly she was hurt, but he enjoyed his own make-believe scenarios, and he knew Jenka didn't really care anyway.

"Doctor?" Jenka asked curiously. Had they finally gotten themselves a new master?

"Oh yeah, pardon me. We got a new master recently. Calls himself the Doctor, but I dunno his real name. This time, we're gonna take over the world, just you see!"

Jenka hummed at the grand image Balrog was putting up for her. "Same old story, then, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much." His expression turned a bit more serious, keeping an eye on Quote, who hadn't made a move since he appeared and kept his weapon trained right on Balrog's face. "But we actually have a shot at it this time. And that brings me to why I'm here, Jenka. I'm not here to give you any trouble, okay? I'm just here for the key to the storehouse. The one where the flower seeds are kept."

Jenka wasn't afraid of Balrog or of Quote, but she couldn't give up the key to either. She knew Balrog wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box, either, so maybe playing dumb would buy her more time than flat out refusing. "What on Earth are you talking about, Balrog? You're making less sense than usual."

Balrog laughed brazenly, his mouth stretching into that wide grin of his that nearly took his whole face. "Playing the fool, are you? I wrote the book on that one; you can't fool me!" Jenka did not change her expression, and merely shrugged her shoulders when Balrog expected her compliance. "Oh, I see how it is," he said coldly, his expression turning dire serious. "So, you've chosen to betray us, then." He paused dramatically, blinking once. "You'll regret it." And with another leap, he was gone through the hole in the ceiling.

Jenka turned back towards her rocking chair. "A new master, he says…" she mumbled to herself. Quote replaced the machine gun to his left shoulder when he realized Balrog wasn't coming back. "That good-for-nothing." She sat back down on her chair, all her joints popping and cracking loudly as she did, with her wincing at every one. "Listen, soldier. Ten years was a long time ago, by anyone else's standards, and you don't look like the particularly violent type, even if what Balrog said about you is true. I'm not giving you the key, but…could you do this old woman a favour anyway?" He reasoned that he may as well listen to what she had to say – maybe, just maybe, she'd change her mind if he did what she asked. "I own a puppy here in the Sand Zone. I usually let him run wherever he wants all over the place, and he usually has the sense to come back, but…he hasn't for days now. I'm worried about him. Do you think you could find him and bring him back for me? Before any of those creatures out in the Zone get to him first."

Quote knew just where to look. He turned to leave, looking at the huge hole in the ceiling that Balrog had left behind. "Don't worry about it," she said to him, as if she was reading his mind again. "Balrog does that all the time when he visits. I don't really blame him; he can't exactly fit through the door. It'll be fixed by the time you come back. Just find my puppy." Well, if she said not to worry about it, then there wasn't much purpose to dwelling on it, then. He left Jenka's house, setting on his way back to Curly's.

Just as he got fifty yards from the house, he looked back, noticing the large hole on the building from the outside. Just as he was about to turn back around, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The hole was illuminated by an eerie blue glow, and quickly, it was patched from the inside-out: the metal covering the roof was mended first and placed on the outside, followed by all the wood chips and stone on the inside, repairing the hole perfectly, as if it had never been damaged. That was certainly one way to use her magic.

* * *

The walk back to Curly's was just as eventful as the walk away from it. By the time he managed to pull himself back to the door, his muscles ached and his clothes were saturated with sand and grit from running and tumbling all through the sand as he avoided the extremely hostile wildlife. From gators snapping at his ankles to giant birds diving at his skull, he was running and jumping and diving away from them all, returning fire when he had the chance to spook them off.

Barely steady when he finally managed to get the door open, he picked a spot on the floor in the corner and wordlessly fell flat onto it, taking a quick breather from all that. Once he had that puppy, he'd have to protect himself _and_ the dog from all those creatures out there as well, and he wasn't looking forward to that at all.

"Jeez, are you okay?" asked Curly once she noticed how tired and dirty he looked. He lifted his hand to give a thumbs up, keeping his head down and his eyes closed. "I told you that the Sand Zone was a heck of a place, didn't I? It makes me wonder how Jenka managed to build her house out there when she did." Three of the four Mimiga children had gathered around Quote, poking at him with their fingers, asking if he was dead or just asleep. "Hey, knock it off," Curly said softly, pulling them away. "The guy's had a rough day, let him sleep."

He never did manage to actually fall asleep, but from just a half-hours worth of rest, he was feeling top-of-the-world again. He was already up and giving a big stretch to his bunched-up back. "Do you think you should be up and moving so soon?" asked Curly, concerned. He flashed her a confident smile and gave a quick nod. "Well, if you say so, then. What brings you back here? Does Jenka not like visitors?"

He approached the door to the side room, knowing exactly where he was going. Inside, the puppy from before was awake and energetic, though also obviously bored and pent-up. It started wagging its tail once it saw Quote. He patted his knees and gave a whistle, and the dog came bounding up to him happily. "Oh, she wants her dog back?" Curly said, following close behind him. He noted the tag on its collar: a cute bone-shape made out of a simple brown metal, with the name 'Hajime' etched into one side. "I knew Hajime belonged to her, but I've never had the chance to bring him back, being so protective of the kids, and all. I guess now would be an okay time to do that." She walked forward, placing a loving hand on the dogs head and petting him enthusiastically. "Hey, boy, want to go back home to Jenka? Quote will take you home. It's time to go!"

Hajime gave a charming 'arf' and immediately jumped onto Quote's shoulders while he was kneeling. He was pretty surprised at first, and tried shaking the dog off, but Hajime wasn't budging, surprisingly. He stood up straight – the weight of the dog not really making much of a difference between the missile launcher and the machine gun – and shrugged his shoulders a few times. Hajime held fast, and was securely fastened to his shoulders. "Well," Curly laughed, "at least you won't have to worry about losing him. Or your hat, for that matter."

He smiled back at her – they'll see how long Hajime stayed on his shoulders out there in the Sand Zone.

* * *

Jenka's house was in plain sight, only a minute away at his walking pace. The trip back was just as perilous as all the others: him dodging tooth and claw, bobbing and weaving between all the creatures that hunted him in the sand, shooting a few of them if they ever got too close. Between all his dives and rolls and leaps, Hajime stuck like glue to his shoulders, either too afraid to move, or simply too comfortable. He was pretty shocked when Hajime didn't even falter his grip jumping over his first dune crest, and the novelty held with him with each exaggerated swing and evasion.

The sunlight in Jenka's house was back, though, which quickly alarmed him. Balrog must have come back when he was out getting Hajime – knowing how strong Jenka's magic supposedly was, she was probably okay, but all the same, he broke out into a sprint when he saw the damage done to the house again. Hajime finally leapt off his shoulders and began running towards the house himself as well.

Inside, the place was a mess, aside from the trash and debris from the hole in the ceiling. The rocking chair was on its side, and the curtains on the windows were torn from their clips. Jenka was there, on her hands and knees, in the centre of the room, moaning weekly and shaking as if she were in pain.

Quote immediately ran to her left side, kneeling down and reaching out to gently help her back to her feet. She seemed physically okay: there was no blood, and nothing seemed broken on her. Hajime was quickly on her other side, whimpering and nuzzling his master, giving licks all in between. She groaned weakly, turning her head towards Quote, seeing who it was that was trying to help her stand. "You?" she coughed. "Hajime…" she moaned turning to her right, seeing her puppy again for the first time in days. "I didn't think you'd actually bring him back, soldier. And so soon…" She looked around and spotted her cane just out of arm's reach in front of her; she extended her hand, palm forward, and the cane suddenly began to shake and vibrate as it rolled across the floor. Grabbing it, she finally managed to pull herself to her feet.

"Thank you for finding my Hajime, soldier." She reached forward with her free hand towards her chair, and, like the cane, it began to shake and vibrate. It was lifted completely into the air, hovering over nothing for a moment as it rotated back right-side-up before being placed back down on its legs. "They," she began, hobbling her way back towards her chair, her pace much less stable than when he first visited. "They took the key, to the storehouse. I…I expected Balrog to, to come back and try to take…it, but Mis–Misery was with him…if I were a few hundreds years younger, I…" She managed to get herself back into her chair. "I would have…had an easy time with them. But I'm old; it's less my magic's fault and more my inability to react to them.

"Listen, soldier," she scowled, regaining her stamina quickly once she had something to sit on. "You have to stop them. They're about to make a huge mistake. Run to the storehouse, and do whatever you soldier-types do to chase them out and get that key back. If they get those seeds, they'll use them to enrage the Mimiga and unleash them all on the surface."

He nodded and was about to dash out of the house, when she stopped him. "This," she said, waving her hand towards a hidden cupboard in the corner. It swung open easily, and from it, a small jar the size of his fist containing a red jelly came floating down, and directly into Quote's hands. "Is a gift, for finding my Hajime. It's a medicine, made from the most powerful mushrooms, herbs and mosses I had centuries ago, and its age has strengthened its potency. It'll taste awful, but I guarantee, it will bring anyone – human, robot, or Mimiga – back from any injury or sickness, no matter how severe. But keep in mind, this thing took me centuries to make: I don't have any more lying around."

Taking in every ounce of information she gave him, he pocketed the jar, and ran out of the house, straight for the storehouse in plain sight in front of him.

* * *

"My lord," Misery said dutifully. "I have brought all the seeds, as you requested."

"Well done," he replied, grinning victoriously, his glasses gleaming as he looked down at Misery. He was extremely tall, taller than Kazuma, and half as wide as Balrog. He constantly hunched, forming an unsightly hump on his upper spine, covered by his stark-white coat. He wore a tie and black shirt underneath his thin, white coat, but his most peculiar feature was the mighty crown on his head. It was adorned with one ruby at its peak, but was otherwise clearly not a crown of royalty: it was an aqua-blue helmet that extended straight up for nearly a foot and framed each side of his face, and had grey grooves all along its exterior. It was horribly unsightly, all in all, but the man wearing it was only a man without it.

"By the by," he started. His voice was moderately deep, and sounded very educated and experienced, although each word carried a cold undertone that would put off anyone that he spoke to. "The flowers that bloom there." He made no absolutely no motion, other than dragging his eyes from Misery's and onto a small patch of blood-red flowers that were growing behind her. She followed his stare to the flowers that he was referencing. "Are those the demon flowers?"

Misery paused before answering, making sure she was not incorrect. "Indeed."

He chuckled under his breath, his grin remaining frozen on his face. "My, my…they're more uncanny than even I imagined. Their petals are a lustrous red, their stems a vibrant, healthy green, and I can smell their delightful pollen from here…such a charm they posses, don't you agree?"

She was surprised by his attention to the flowers – she did not fancy him a botanist, or even a hobbyist, as either would imply that he was a human with morals. "My lord," she said flatly, ignoring his fawning over the flowers. "Shall I consume one as a test?"

His eyes slowly travelled from the patch of flowers back to Misery's. His perpetual toothy grin had not ebbed in the very slightest. "Let's not," he replied. "There are no reports on what would happen if a witch like you were to eat one, and I'd rather not risk any surprises. But maybe that Mimiga you had brought back from the village can serve a purpose after all."

She immediately understood his meaning, and broke into her own wide, open-mouthed smirk as well. "Yes, my lord," she said enthusiastically: finally, something she could really _enjoy_.

She raised her wooden staff and closed her eyes in concentration. Only a moment later, Toroko appeared several metres in the air, plopping harshly onto the ground just before them both. The wind was knocked out of her with an 'oomph'. Pulling herself to her feet, she took a quick glance around the room – she wasn't in the Plantation anymore, but she definitely wasn't in the village. "Where am–"

"That's the least of your concerns," Misery interrupted. Toroko leaped in surprise, quickly spinning around to see who was behind her. It was that witch woman that had kidnapped her from the village about a day ago, and behind her was…!

On the other side of the building was an open door. If she ran quickly enough for it, she might just be able to get away from these horrible people. Her eyes closed, she ran fiercely for the exit, paying no attention to what she was running over, or into, as she collided head on with Balrog.

"Uh-oh!" Balrog laughed, smiling delightedly at the ticklish bump Toroko had given him. "Where do you think you're going, darling?"

Misery didn't waste any time – she wanted to see this, as badly as the man behind her did. "Balrog. Feed this one a flower." Her expectant smile only widened when she gave the command.

"You got it," he replied, all too happy to scoop up the stub-full of flowers as he marched towards the fallen Toroko. His massive size didn't give her any opportunity to run around, and she couldn't run back, either.

"Stop it!" she cried, kicking and flailing with her arms. She had only heard the stories about what 'red flowers' would do to Mimiga if they ate them, but the rumours were enough to fight for her very life. She was thrashing about as ferociously as she could, with no direction to any swing or kick.

Balrog slapped her hard across the face with his open stub, causing her to reel in shock. He immediately took the opportunity to shove his other stub down her throat, along with the flower it was carrying. "Eat it!" he yelled, all sense of humour gone from his face and his voice. He twisted the stub in his mouth, making sure every last petal had slid in cleanly. "Eat it!" he yelled again, ignoring the tears streaming down her face, matting her fur against her skin, and every pathetic kick and scratch she tried to get him to stop.

Balrog was too busy stuffing the red flower down Toroko's throat to hear footsteps approach rapidly from behind him, and before he could realize someone was even there, he felt a sharp, puncturing pain in his flat back. He immediately turned around, he arms extended offensively to beat at whatever it was that was stabbing him. Just behind him was another Mimiga, with light-red eyes and slits for pupils, like a snake. It wore a long, tattered, purple robe, and it had a huge scar across its flattened snout. Its right eye looked as though it was bruised a short while ago, although it was healing nicely.

The Mimiga ducked underneath Balrog's excited swing, and countered with another thrust with its long, silver sword, this one puncturing his face just above his mouth. Neither of the wounds were lethal by themselves or together, but Balrog wasn't about to stay and fight this clearly capable Mimiga after those two devastating hits: after it withdrew its sword from his face, he took a quick leap backwards, and then a giant one straight up, causing another hole in a different ceiling.

"Toroko!" King yelled, dropping his sword once Balrog shamelessly ran. He fell to his knees, quickly cradling Toroko's head in his caring hands, looking her over in a panic. Red petals were lining her lips. "Are you okay?! Speak to me, Toroko!" He knew what he saw, and he knew what it meant, but he refused to believe it; he desperately prayed that there was some miracle way to reverse what had been done, and that Toroko won't turn into some crazy killing machine, and that he won't have to–

"K…" Toroko stuttered. Her fur was all a mess, and she looked like she was about to be violently sick. Her eyes, however, had turned a frightening dark red, her black pupils blending into them almost perfectly. "King…?" she asked weakly. Her voice was lower than normal, and was scratchy from all the abuse it had taken from Balrog. "My…my head…" Her eyes closed as she lifted her hands – her huge, deformed hands – to her face, trying to sooth her aching skull with a light massage.

Quote appeared in the doorway to the storehouse just then. He had seen Balrog fly off after bursting through the ceiling once again. He had fired a few shots, but Balrog was already well out of the machine gun's range, and soon, he was out of sight. Balrog moved as though he was in a lot of pain, and his leaps seemed very lopsided and limp. Quote could only hope that his injuries were from Misery, and not from some crazy Mimiga that was loose in there.

In front of him was King, holding an odd-looking Mimiga in his hands as if it were his child. And off in the other end of the storehouse was Misery, and just behind her was a man that he did not immediately recognize. But more importantly, between the two pairs was a patch of blood-red flowers, and there were a few red petals surrounding King…

"You!" King shouted angrily, staring in the man's direction. His lips were curled into a terrifying snarl, showing all his sharp, clenched teeth, and his ears were folded back. His eyes shot daggers into the man as he reached for the silver sword he had dropped – not that the man felt threatened. That grin had not waned in the very slightest from the whole show. "You're that Doctor! You keep kidnapping Mimiga!"

The Doctor's grin remained, unflinching. His eyes told nothing, hidden behind the glint in his glasses. "Why," he began, pausing dramatically. "Yes. I am the Doctor, but from here on out you can call me 'Master'. Pleased to make your acquaintance – and I'm afraid I don't do house-calls."

"Don't get funny with me, you jackal!" King yelled, swinging his sword at nothing. "Fix what you've done to Toroko, or I'll–"

"You'll what?" laughed the Doctor. "You'll throw your sword at me? Hey, it's worth a shot – it always works in the movies."

He laid down Toroko's head as gently as his extremely enraged self could, before giving a ferocious yell as he charged towards them both, sword gripped tightly in both hands just to his side as he ran. Misery allowed him to get close: just before King could make a swing, she raised her staff towards him, and with the force of a thousand unseen fists, King was flung harmlessly to the other end of the building. Quote, fortunately, broke his fall.

"My, are they really so fragile before the rage takes them?" asked the Doctor to Misery. He seemed amused by King's mad attempted – although it was hard to tell, with that unchanging smile. King quickly pulled himself to his feet, with Quote following suit. He immediately drew his machine gun, and pointed it at the Doctor, knowing full well that the machine gun couldn't reach him. "Oho!" the Doctor laughed jovially. "You're the soldier from the surface that Misery and Balrog have been talking about! It's great to finally meet you!" Quote chose not to entertain him, keeping the weapon trained on the human.

The Doctor began to levitate under his own power, with Misery following him closely. "You've come at a splendid time," he chortled. "I'm sure you know the story by now. We really must be going – this area's about to become far too…alive, let's say, for us. Enjoy the show!" And, just as Misery liked to do, he simply faded away from existence. Misery smiled and winked at them both, and followed her master away from the danger.

King's sword still clutched firmly in his hands, he was about to run to the position the Doctor was just at, when Toroko began to thrash spastically on the ground, still laying on her back. He was fuelled with so much anger towards the Doctor that he had briefly forgotten about her condition. He stopped dead in his tracks, about to drop the sword again and run to her aide, when her muscles began to build upon themselves and her fur became thicker with each passing second. Her normally meek claws on her hands and feet extended and sharpened, her legs and arms gaining mass with each of her adrenaline-hyped heartbeats.

Her eyes narrowed and turned completely red, drowning out her irises and pupils as the rest of her body began to expand. Her simple green dress ripped at each of its seams, until the simple cloth could not contain her gargantuan body and burst open with a frightening rip. Her muzzle lengthened and flattened, and each of her normally modest teeth extended and sharpened in her jaw, ripping open her gums. She let out a bellowing feral roar, the blood from her teeth spewing straight up before coming down and dotting her snow-white fur across her chest and stomach. Her torso had grown in proportion to the rest of her body, each muscle building open itself to form a thick, meaty shield around her vitals.

Quote had his machine gun aimed at Toroko the whole time, but he didn't dare pull the trigger. He was constantly glancing nervously towards King, waiting for him to give him an order, or to make a move, or something, anything, to tell him what he should do. King himself looked totally shocked at the transformation happening right in front of him: the young, delicate Toroko was now more than three times his own size, and was still growing and looking more and more vicious with each passing moment. His grip on his sword did not falter, and his panicked face and darting eyes told Quote that he knew he had to do _something_, but he just couldn't bring himself to kill Toroko, even when it would have been the best decision if they had.

Toroko's mad eyes scanned the room, searching every visible nook and cranny for something, before falling to rest on King and Quote just to her right. She twisted around, onto her hands and knees, those blood-red eyes locked onto theirs. Her mouth was curled into a twisted gnarl, her teeth each still bleeding rivulets, pooling into her bottom lip and pouring onto the ground in front of her. Her large, floppy ears grew with the rest of her, framing her skull on either side. She did not resemble anything like a Mimiga anymore.

Quote desperately wanted King to either tell him to do something, or for King to start acting himself: Toroko's new form somewhat resembled what he had fought in the Egg Corridor, although perhaps because she had eaten more flowers than that one, she was considerably larger, and was innumerably more terrifying.

She began crawling towards them both, her eyes erratic although always focused on either of them. She growled threateningly, those huge, sharp claws of hers dragging on the stone ground whenever she made a pat forward. Her head was low, showing her arched shoulder-blades poking lewdly up from his back.

King stood still, his sword held still at his side with both hands. Whenever she made a move forward, he and Quote would take a step back, until their backs were to the wall. The door out was just to their left, but they didn't want to take any risks moving anywhere but away from Toroko – and besides, the door was large enough for her to fit through anyway, so running wouldn't accomplish much.

King desperately didn't want to fight – he had fought and searched so hard to get Toroko back. He even tried to trade Sue for her, in his desperation. He had no idea just how strong a frenzied Mimiga was, but if they fought, one of them was going to die, and he _couldn't_ risk that. "Toroko," he said, his sword remaining taut in his hands but still making no move to use it. "It's King, Toroko…"

Quote didn't want to fight Toroko either – he still had that pendant tied to his belt – but he didn't think reasoning with Toroko was the way out, exactly. King took a step forward, noting how Toroko was still advancing towards them both, but hadn't made a lunge yet. "It's okay, Toroko," he said quietly, his nerves shot: he was scared to death, but whether it was because he didn't want to accept that Toroko was lost, or because he might have to slay her himself, Quote didn't know. "We'll get you back to the village, and we can have Jack think of–"

She gave a terrifying roar and swatted at King with her left hand. King was nimble, and managed to jump over the low swing with his powerful legs, but still did not make a move with his sword. Toroko sprang from her back legs, and made a powerful swing with her right at Quote – her open palm, claws extended, was nearly as big as he was. He ducked and rolled to his left, quickly springing himself back to his feet behind her, his machine gun once again at the ready, but still, did not fire. King's not-a-suggestion from when they met in the village was still clear in his mind, although every sensible nerve in his body told him to _pull that trigger_.

Having missed both her targets, Toroko swung back around, now on her hind legs, standing like the one in the Egg Corridor. The blood from her mouth still dripping to her feet, the first one she saw was King, and charged at him without any direction, much like her usual fighting style. Not that she really needed any training; with her new size and fury, the ground rumbled with each step she took, and the air whistled with each swing of the claws she made with either hand.

King knew he couldn't really defend himself against Toroko, instead choosing to jump and duck and roll around each fevered swing she made. His reflexes wanted him to return the offence, to swing that sword and get her right in the neck, but he simply…couldn't. It was Toroko he was fighting. He couldn't kill her.

A series of breathy 'fweets' filled the air, and suddenly Toroko was recoiling from a sudden burning sensation in her back. She turned around, her fury building on itself, seeing Quote standing there with the machine gun up to his shoulder as he continued unloading his limitless clip into her fur. In response, she dug her right hand into the stone underneath her, and lifted up a chunk larger than Quote straight out of the earth. With just one hand, she biffed it forward, splitting the air as it soared straight for him.

He couldn't wait for King's command anymore, and he doubted he'd ever receive it anyway at this rate. He wanted to save Toroko, he really, really did…but she was gone, and there was nothing neither he nor King could do could save her. There was no other option readily available, and he chose to do what King couldn't. He, of course, expected her to react to his offensive, although he wasn't exactly ready for her to just pick up a chunk of the earth and throw it right at him. He jumped awkwardly to his right, barely managing to miss the rock as it collided fiercely with the wall of the storehouse, causing the whole building to rumble.

Toroko jumped high into the air once she had thrown the rock, aiming straight for Quote as she came back down. Each of the claws on her hands and feet aimed directly at him, ready to skewer him effortlessly when she landed. Quote was keeping his eye on her, and ran directly underneath her flight path, his machine gun pointed up at her and firing ceaselessly. She roared with each hit, not seeming to get any weaker from the strikes, but instead just angrier.

Once she landed, she pivoted and launched herself with stunning speed and strength back towards Quote, this time keeping herself lower to the ground. He wasn't prepared for her to recover so quickly from her own attack, and was caught off-guard as he received a devastating right hook from Toroko, sending him tumbling across the ground, head over foot, for a few yards. It hurt, but he ignored the pain, knowing that if he faltered for even a second, Toroko might find the opportunity to do something much worse.

He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, prepping his machine gun once again, to see that King had come to his senses, and began attacking Toroko himself. While Quote was still getting the hang of his body (although he was getting much better at it, he still hadn't mastered himself yet), King was the epitome of a nimble soldier, ducking and weaving between each swing and kick Toroko made and responding with his own swings and thrusts with his sword. Each blow he managed to connect didn't seem to do much to Toroko, however: with every swing into her muscled biceps, the sword would just bounce off her fur and skin, her muscles apparently making an excellent shield of armour by themselves. She responded with each hit with another bloody roar, though, so she was clearly feeling each strike.

Quote kneeled on his left leg, taking careful aim for Toroko's head and pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil of the machine gun try to push his arms up and over his shoulder, but his grip held fast. She felt each hit, and turned towards him, briefly forgetting about King as she considered going after Quote once again. With another swing, King's sword managed to cut a shallow gash across his torso; still not deep enough to draw blood, amazingly, but enough to cause Toroko to suddenly cry out in pain.

Frustrated at the distractions, Toroko clenched both her hands into giant fists, and brought them over her head before swinging them back down with as much force as she could muster towards the ground. A dull explosion filled the room, the vibration knocking King right off his feet and Quote off his balance, as well as dislodging a few beams from the ceiling, causing them to come crashing down with a metallic clang.

Toroko reached for the fallen King, who was unable to scamper away from her reach in time as she grabbed him with her whole left hand. Unsympathetic, she gave a strong squeeze, contracting King's bones and organs powerfully with a simple flex, causing him to yelp in pain before suddenly silencing as all his breath left him.

She hadn't forgotten about the robot behind her; twisting around, she flung King towards Quote with all her might, managing to make a direct hit, sending them both flopping over each other with tremendous velocity before colliding harshly with the back wall.

They both groaned, each of their bones and joints pleading for them to stop and rest as they pulled themselves to their feet. King was out of breath, coughing and hacking as he tried to stand again under his own power. He had dropped his sword mid-flight; he needed to get back to it before Toroko cut them both off. He was tough as nails, though – Toroko would have to do a bit more than squeeze him like a plush doll to get him to succumb. Quote wondered just how strong Arthur was, remembering how he was so revered in the village for his strength when King could take such a punishment and simply walk it off.

Toroko had hesitated before continuing her ferocious assault, stopping to check the wound King had left across her chest. "I don't suppose," King said between his heaving breaths, "you have any ideas?" Quote didn't have any in particular; his usual strategy was to just shoot at whatever he shot at until it died. It worked in the Egg Corridor and it worked somewhat in Grasstown, but Toroko didn't have any particular weaknesses, since she was just so meaty and her skin provided such an awesome defence. He shook his head no, replacing his machine gun back across his right shoulder while simultaneously reaching for his missile launcher.

King pulled himself together, sighing dejectedly. "I can't believe we're…" he stopped, the very thought that that _thing_ they were fighting was once adorable little Toroko, practically his own flesh and blood, making him sick. And now she was something else entirely, trying to rip their stuffing out in her blind fury. He didn't need to finish that sentence; Quote could never truly understand his reluctance to what he was doing, being an outsider, but he could understand that it was difficult for him, to say the least.

She felt that she had recovered enough, spinning around and began dashing back towards them, her huge footsteps reverberating through the air and pounding their eardrums. Quote began kneeling again, taking careful aim with his missile launcher, making sure that every hit counted, before firing a short volley into her path. The first few managed to catch her in her face, while the others hit her in the chest as she reeled in her pain. King took the advantage to run for his sword, laying just underneath Toroko's right foot; with a slide, he picked up the silver blade with his left hand, swinging it hard to hit Toroko in the ankles as he switched the sword to his right hand.

She roared some more, her throat sounding garbled and muffled through some liquid, as she swept the floor with her hands, hoping to catch King as he hacked at her legs. She was unsuccessful, the comparatively tiny Mimiga evading expertly from each of her blind swings. The smoke finally cleared, restoring her vision to see King as he made more swings and thrusts at various non-lethal spots on her lower body. Her upper body appeared scorched and shredded from the missiles, fur and skin entirely missing in various patches, displaying several burnt holes in her body. She did not move like the injuries inhibited her in any way, though, and she was still swinging and hitting as strongly as ever.

King met her new onslaught with just as much precision as ever, seemingly knowing every move and attack she made before she made them, ducking and sidestepping and strafing several fierce kicks and swings while striking at each opening he saw. She grunted and growled with each miss, becoming increasingly frustrated as her opponent evaded each hit while he kept stinging her with his own attacks. She swung backhanded and open-handed, clapping her hands (her large, unwieldy claws sometimes digging into her own palms), slapping the ground, kicking and punting at each opportunity she could, but he was always one step ahead and was meeting each of her attacks with his own.

Her wrists and arms finally began to bleed from all the hits King was making on her, causing her to shout in anger all the more. Quote, meanwhile, was having difficulty getting another shot on Toroko, since she kept moving and pivoting around as she chased King, never really giving him an opening. Finally, she had her back turned to him as she focused some more attacks on King, and he fired another small volley into her back.

She arched and yelped in pain as each missile made their hit, her teeth clenching and her eyes closed as the explosions made her wince. King saw her expression – it was the same hurt expression that she gave him when he demanded her to give him the key to Arthur's house. Underneath those huge claws and bleeding teeth, that odd face and that giant body, was still Toroko, and Toroko was getting roasted from behind with a barrage of missiles from Quote's launcher.

He faltered; his heart rendered for a moment when he remembered Toroko give him that face before. The explosions ended quickly, and she looked down at him, a renewed anger in her blood-red eyes as she swat forward with the back of her right hand, all memories of who King was melted away behind her primal fury. He didn't react in time, and took the full hit, sending him flying backwards a short distance before, thinking quickly, he stabbed the ground with his sword to stop his velocity.

Toroko ran back up to King, grabbing him again as before, this time with both hands. She didn't catch his sword-hand on her palms, however, and just as she began to squeeze again, he whipped the sword across the underside of her right wrist, slicing open her skin in one hit.

She cried out in pain again, and furiously tossed King behind her with her left hand: her right was suddenly feeling numb, and was bleeding rivers across where King had made the hit. She didn't let that slow her down: all she knew was to fight and kill, and began charging back at them the moment she released King, whom had fallen face-down in a patch of red flowers from the landing.

Quote fired another few missiles at Toroko before dropping the launcher all together, nearly spent of its ammunition. He quickly unclipped the machine gun from his right shoulder and began firing at Toroko once again, aiming for where the last few missiles had landed. From all her building injuries from King's sword and Quote's munitions, her roars of anger with each consecutive hit slowly transformed into waning whimpers and pleads. She continued charging though, her pace and stature uneven and sloppy with each step. She ignored King completely, gunning straight for Quote as he continued firing that machine gun into her face, each burning shot taking off a bit more fur before flaking off a bit more skin.

With her weak right arm, she balled another fist and raised it high above her head before crashing it back down towards Quote. With his own powerful legs, he made a strong horizontal leap away from Toroko, making a controlled landing (he was working on his landings) before pivoting and opening fire again. Her fist did not make such an impressive sound as it hit the floor, sounding less like an explosion and more like a simple 'thud'.

Breathing hard, she turned back toward Quote, her arm and her jaw dripping blood the whole way while she took his shots to the face and chest. She began charging back towards him – though in her injured state, she could only muster the energy to walk angrily – roaring meekly and groaning with each heavy step. The fur all but gone from her entire torso and skull, her bleeding wrist and all her exploded patches of skin burning with each movement, she finally began collapsing from the pain, falling to her knees before falling unconscious entirely.

Quote kept his machine gun aimed at her body, ready to begin firing again if she made another move, but she kept deathly still, the blood beginning to pool around her right arm and face. Just as the other Mimiga in the Egg Corridor, Toroko began to shrink once she stopped moving: her naked, burnt, torn body decreasing; her muscles losing all that build; her ears and teeth and arms and legs moving back to their petite proportions, and soon enough, Toroko looked like a Mimiga again: small, not quite as furry, harmless, and dead.

Quote dropped the sight on his machine gun, lowering it to the ground when he saw Toroko shrinking. He looked at the little girl he was forced to kill; he remembered when he nearly flattened her when he fell from high above the village, and he remembered how she told him how the Doctor had killed her brother, and how she and Sue were the best of friends. He clipped the machine gun back onto his shoulder, gripping the silver fish-shaped pendant in his left hand as he stood. The Doctor just gave him a very good reason for him to pay a 'house visit' of his own; he was certain King would agree.

"You!" King called, grabbing his attention. King sounded desperate over something – maybe he was injured from that last throw? Quote turned, and saw that he was on his hand and knees in the patch of red flowers he had landed face-first in. His arms and legs appeared swollen and deformed, and his body was quickly gaining mass, straining against his purple, tattered robe–

"I," he groaned, resting his head in his two swollen hands. He suddenly had a splitting headache, and his vision was beginning to turn red. Quote ran over to him, suddenly very panicked. "I," he stuttered again, trying to hold onto himself, "swallowed a pet– a petal or two, I don't know." His voice continually cracked unevenly, each word beginning to sound deeper and angrier than the last. Quote rested a hand on King's back, unsure of what he should do. Would he have to fight King, too? Injured, and low on missiles, against a frenzied _King_? Who knows how well trained a Mimiga like him could fight while under the influence?

"Listen to m– me," he said, looking up to see Quote in the eyes and grabbing his left arm with his own right. His eyes were already blood-red, his pupils beginning to vanish underneath the tone. "Take my sword and…" he lowered his head, groaning loudly, clutching his skull in his left hand. "Kill me, please!"

Quote couldn't say he didn't expect that sort of command, given that King knew first hand what would happen to him if he allowed himself to go through with this transformation. He was still fairly small, but his mass was growing exponentially by the heartbeat, his robe already beginning to tear. "Do it, man!" King roared, his hand painfully clutching Quote's arm in his sudden rage. "While I'm still me! Don't let me d– die a monster!"

He knew what he was doing when he first opened fire on Toroko: he knew that she was gone, and that there was no cure for this 'ailment'. He knew the case would be the same with King, as well, but…killing two of his friends, one after the other, was a little difficult to bare on his conscience. There wasn't much option, though…the very least he could do was do what King had begged of him, and kill him while he could still call himself a Mimiga.

King's pained groans began to grow louder and deeper with each passing moment as his body began to take the same shape Toroko's had. Quote picked up the silver sword laying only a few feet from where King had landed by the handle – he didn't exactly know how to wield a sword, although the basic premise wasn't that much different from a gun: the other end goes into the target.

His arms suddenly feeling as heavy as lead, he gripped the handle with both ends, the blade held backhand as he raised it up over King's lowered head. He faltered, suddenly feeling unable to make the move, the very tip of the blade hovering perilously just over King's neck, all nerve to bring it down and through his throat drained. King was still changing from the red flower's ingestion: through sheer force of will, he was keeping himself suppressed from transforming totally, but it was clearly a losing battle for him.

King gave a deafening roar as he began to let his rage overtake him. His obsidian claws were each growing and dragging across the ground, his teeth extending and sharpening as his gums tore and bled from the strain, his muscles continuing to layer on themselves, forming a powerful–

Finally getting up the courage to do the deed, Quote brought his arms down as swiftly as he could manage, skewering King's head on the blade, ceasing the bloody roar and the transformation immediately. King's body went limp, laying as still as Toroko's as his body slowly began undoing its changes, shrinking everything back down to its normal size as slowly as it had expanded.

Quote held still for a moment, unbelieving that he had just killed King with his own sword. He kept telling himself that it was what King wanted, and that he wanted to die as a heroic Mimiga who had protected his village and his friends, and not as a bloodthirsty, rampaging beast that killed and destroyed everything it laid its eyes on. It granted him little solace all the same.

He released his grip on the handle, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, seeing the bloody mess that was King laying deceptively peacefully in the patch of red flowers. The red flowers…_the Doctor_. He suddenly felt a powerful rage of his own; a blood-curdling need to pay that man a visit was all he could think about.

He considered what his next action should be, between all his thoughts on what he would do once he finally met the Doctor again. But between all his hate and anger toward the man, all he could otherwise think about was how he had shoved a sword through King's neck. Both he and Toroko deserved proper burials – though he felt a pang of guilt when he thought of the Mimiga in the Egg Corridor, who received no such luxury. He eyed the silver sword again, sticking straight up from where it was thrust into the ground. He couldn't decide whether or not King would appreciate it if Quote took the sword; to use it against the Doctor as a sort of poetic justice; or to leave it as his tombstone, out of the hands of an outsider.

Deliberating with himself, he decided that it King might appreciate the former. Whether Quote was an outsider or not, King had entrusted his life to him as they fought against Toroko, so he couldn't have thought that lowly about Quote. And, he seemed the type to want to be avenged anyhow – although that was a given, whether or not it was with the sword.

Quote noticed the sword's sheath lying still next to King: it was attached to his robe earlier, before the sudden strain on the cloth had broken its grip on the thread. Feeling just a stab of guilt as he picked up the sheath, the idea of robbing the dead a painful one to entertain, he also, slowly and gently, removed the bloody sword from King's body. He could only dream of one day wielding the sword the same way King had only a few minutes ago; he placed the sword in the sheath, and clipped the sheath to the left side of his belt, wrapping the silver pendant around them both.

After retrieving his dropped missile launcher, he slowly left the storehouse; his head hung low and his eyes half-lidded as he replayed the whole event over and over again in his mind. What was there left to do now? He had come here, hoping to burn the flowers and their seeds before they could be used to start another war with the surface. Now, the seeds were gone; the flowers were used; the one little girl he tried to rescue, along with the village's leader, were dead; and the Doctor managed to get away. The walk through the Sand Zone was the last thing he wanted to do.

He lifted his head a little bit, to have an easier time seeing where he was walking. Just up ahead was Jenka's house – the newest skylight Balrog had made was already firmly patched once again. He didn't know what, exactly, he should say to Jenka, if anything. And what about Curly? Would he just leave her here with the kids? Should he try to convince–

Quote was suddenly and instantly knocked unconscious, when a falling Balrog – still wounded on both sides – jumped from the top of the storehouse and landed directly on his head. Quote didn't hear him, and had no idea what was coming. "Huz_zah_!" Balrog said shortly after confirming that he was indeed knocked out, pointing his left stub at Quote vindictively. "Sorry," he giggled to himself, feeling immense gratification over finally getting a one-up over the soldier, "I should have watched my step."

Misery teleported next to them both, hovering a few feet off the ground as she normally did. "He's alive, then?" she asked. Business before pleasure.

"Well, he might not be now," Balrog laughed, kicking the soldier roughly on the ground. Quote lay limp, totally unresponsive to anything Balrog did to him. "But yeah, he survived the frenzied Mimiga."

Misery landed gracefully, walking up to Quote, leaning down to inspect him closely. "Who know who this one reminds me of?" she asked Balrog, not expecting an answer, which Balrog did not give anyway. "He reminds me of the other one, just a while ago. A tough little robot, just like him." She saw the pearl-white of his skin hidden under the dirt, grime and sand of his recent adventures, and the grooves along his face. She noted the receptors on his ears, and the surprisingly human black hair he had on his head. She prodded him gently with the balled end of her staff, and again, he did not respond.

"He's tough," Misery concluded as she stood. Balrog gave her a confused look; well, yeah, he was tough! This guy fought off himself twice in a row, and a frenzied Mimiga just a few hours later! Walking through the Sand Zone alone was an accomplishment worth bragging. "I can see that confronting him directly just makes things complicated. He may be a robot, but he learns quickly, and he can be very resourceful. I can…respect that in an opponent."

"What are you going on about?" interrupted Balrog.

She looked her peculiarly-shaped friend in his large eyes. "If we leave him be, he'll just keep getting stronger and smarter, and we don't have a whole lot of things to confront him with. You're strong, Balrog, so at least you're good for something – but even with my magic helping you, you still lost when he fought you. Alone."

Balrog looked at her, then back to the soldier, who showed no signs of immediate recovery. "Do you want to kill him? Right now? It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"I most certainly do not!" She replied fiercely, spooking Balrog suddenly. "He's the best shot we have at breaking our curse for…ages! And you want to kill him?"

"Whoa, there, Misery," Balrog said, raising his stubs and patting downwards, trying to signal to her to calm down. "Yeah, I can't say I like working for that crown either, but," he paused, carefully planning his words. "We can't go against whoever wears it. If we leave him here, we'll be putting the Doctor's life at risk. We gotta do something about him."

"I'm aware of my limitations," she replied snidely. "But I'm not going to pass up this chance." She raised her staff, the balled end of it beginning to glow an off-blue. "I'll send him to the Labyrinth. He'll be wandering around in there for eternity, so I can safely say that I had sentenced him to his death. If he should find a way out," she finished, grinning. "Well, that's through no fault of ours, right?" And with just a thought, Quote melted away from existence, teleported to another area in the island.

Balrog was uncertain, however, furrowing his imaginary brow as he thought. "I don't know about this, Mis–"

"You're going with him," she interrupted, and before he could respond, or try to run, or _something_, he melted away as well, looking utterly shocked as he suddenly found himself in a wholly different area. Misery laughed lowly to herself, standing on her toes and clapping her heels together in delight. "_Heavens_, that felt good."


	5. Chapter 5

He groaned a bit, his eyes straining to open against the light of the room around him. His head was throbbing, and his back ached, too. He brought his right hand to his face, rubbing his weary eyes as he tried to make sense of where he was.

His vision was blurry, and he couldn't make a ton of details immediately, but at first, it seemed like there was no ceiling to the cave he was in – maybe he was outside? Had he finally found a way out of the caves? But…he could clearly feel the unevenness of the ground jutting and poking into his backside, and the walls around him seemed to stretch as high as the sky. He could hear the sound of bat wings flapping as well, although there was another sound…footsteps, coming closer and closer to him.

He wearily grasped for his Polar Star, grabbing nothing before remembering he had traded it with Curly for the much larger and bulkier machine gun. Instead, he started reaching for the sword on his belt, trying to get a grip on the handle before whatever was approaching him could cause him any harm.

The blurriness in his vision began to fade, giving him a much sharper image of the room he was in and what he was looking at, when he suddenly came face-to-face with a creature of some kind. All of its skin was an ocean-blue, its eyes a pure white with otherwise no features. It had pointed ears, like a cat, with grey devices attached to their lobes. But otherwise, it had no other feature to its face: no nose or mouth.

"Are you alright?" it asked, a hole where its mouth should have been suddenly opening and flapping with each word. Its voice was deep and synthesized, clearly unnatural. Was this thing a robot, like himself? "We've checked you over for injuries when you landed." Quote looked alarmed suddenly: there were others here? "It's alright; we're all friends here in the Labyrinth. Your possessions are safe, and your body appears fine, if a little bruised. Can you stand?"

Quote was awake enough to understand everything the robot was saying to him. He gave standing a try: his arms and legs hurt, as if he had taken a hard beating from something. The robot said he had 'landed' here? Then, he must have fallen for a short distance before landing on his back, to make his body hurt like this. All the same, with a short grunt, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, before carrying himself onto his feet. Nothing felt broken, thank goodness, but everything had felt better.

"I bet Misery tossed you down here," the blue robot continued as Quote checked himself over for all his possessions. Machine gun, missile launcher, King's sword, Toroko's pendant, the weird jar Jenka had given him – everything seemed to be accounted for. The other robot didn't mind when Quote chose not respond to his words. "You poor thing. This is the island's trash heap." Quote looked around the room, seeing not a lot of trash, but two other blue robots just like the one he was talking to. One of them sat in the corner, its eyes pitch black, while the other one was standing sternly next to the other single thick, heavy, metal door in or out of the room. Above him was a mishmash maze of rocks chained to the walls that led straight up for as far as he could see, the blackness eventually blocking his vision after several stories. "Once you get in, there's no way for you to get out."

"Well, that's not totally true," the other blue robot standing next to the door said. His voice was exactly the same as the first robot's – in fact, they both looked exactly the same, down to the odd brown shirt and green shorts they wore. "This door can lead us out."

"We've gone over this," the first replied exhaustedly. "Maybe it will lead us out, but there's no way to open it. The switch is at the top of this room, and two of us have already tried to reach it." Quote looked straight up again – the switch to open the door was at the top of _this_ room? Well, no wonder nobody's been able to get the door open; he can't even see the top!

The second robot had seen Quote's curious glance straight up, noting its surprised expression at the odd placement of the 'key'. "Our friend sitting in the corner and I," it said, grabbing Quote's attention, "both tried reaching the switch at the top before. The rocks chained to the walls and suspended in the air can serve as platforms to get us up there: I'm _certain_ that it was intentionally set up this way. But, when I tried, I broke my legs when I fell; I'm not standing guard at the door because I feel like it. And when _he_ tried, well…we're still waiting for him to wake up."

Quote looked around the room for some footholds in the walls for him to climb to. He spotted one just on the other side of where he was standing, and from there he could leap to stone after stone that gradually led him straight up the column. But each stone was fairly compact to begin with. "The footing is pretty tricky," it continued, "but it's more than possible, I'm sure of it."

Quote kept eyeing the first few leaps he'd need to take in order to climb up to the top of this room. One jump onto the foothold just in front of him, and from there a small hop onto a boulder suspended in the air from several chains (none of which were in his way, perhaps intentionally), across another, larger platform, and from there onto the opposite wall, going back and forth straight up for who knows how far.

He readjusted his red cap on his messy hair before removing his heaviest weapons, his missile launcher and his machine gun, and placing them gently on the floor. He didn't have a ton of reasons to trust these other robots that he just met, but, it wasn't like they were going to run off with his stuff. "You're going to try and reach the switch?!" the first one asked him, alarmed. Quote gave him a quick nod, stretching the joints in his arms and legs before he began. It was a good excuse to better get used to his limits with just how mobile his body was, although lately he's been getting a good idea of just what those limits were. "Are you certain? You only just woke up. Are you sure you shouldn't rest a bit more?"

"He's been asleep for half a day," the second intervened. "I'm sure he's feeling well rested." Truth be told, he wouldn't mind waiting a little while longer while his agitated head calmed down, but he couldn't wait; the Doctor was still out there, and Sue and Kazuma were still at a risk. Getting up a running start, he jumped right at the small platform jutting out of the rocky wall, and from there onto the first suspended platform, then to the next, continuing up the massive shaft by jumping onto the chained debris.

After only a few stories, the ground shrank steadily away from his vision with each new platform he managed to leap to, and the three blue robots slowly began to shrink until they were nothing more than little pixels in his vision. As he continued – feeling the sheath beat against his thigh with each running jump and land – the platforms began taking on more intricate designs, sometimes either too large or tall for any human to make, as if it was specifically designed for something inhuman to traverse. This place _could_ have been an artefact of the war from ten years ago – a bunker, or prisoner-of-war cell perhaps – though he didn't really see a lot of evidence to prove or disprove that idea. Each leap seemed feeble enough for a Mimiga to make, and it was definitely obvious that the platforms weren't from debris of the walls coming loose and collapsing down on them.

He had no real concept of time in the caves, but in just a blink of an eye, he had climbed so far up the shaft that he couldn't see the ground anymore; it had melted into the darkness, just as the ceiling was beginning to come into view for him another few stories up. The more active he got with each jump and grab, the more the pain in his back ebbed away, although his head wasn't feeling any better or worse from all the movement and excitement of being so high off the ground. He wondered just how far the others managed to get before they fell.

It seemed natural to him, making huge, impossible leaps from one suspended platform to another, onto another foothold in the wall, to repeat the process again and again as he climbed higher. Finding the next place to jump to was harder than actually jumping to it: he managed to vault every pillar and clear every gap, and his hands easily gripped every ledge and his feet never slipped from each landing. He had come a long way since he had woken up in that first cave so long ago.

One final platform to leap to; it seemed to extend out from the rocky ceiling itself, rather than be suspended by any wire or chain. It was an easy jump that he had no trouble clearing, placing both his feet safely on the ground underneath him – although, the little alcove he was in was not reinforced by any chain; he was effectively standing on nothing. He suddenly felt anxious at the idea of the little ledge collapsing underneath him: he needed to find that switch, and press it before he lost his nerve.

In the far corner of the blackness of the alcove was a lit monitor, standing on top of a plain wooden desk with a simple keyboard sitting in front of it. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, having been completely untouched for perhaps a decade. It still ran, and the last command was still lit on screen, waiting ten years for someone to find it and give it its one input.

_Open door Y/N?_ the monitor displayed in neon green, the one dash under the letters blinking regularly. The keyboard itself, while hidden under layers and layers of dust, grime, and cobwebs, remained legible, the font on its keys unfazed by time. It was a tough little machine, still working perfectly after so long.

He reached forward and pressed the 'Y' key on the keyboard once – there was an extremely faint rumbling noise coming from all the way down on the floor of the shaft as the large, metal door slid open, its hinges creaking and screeching every inch it moved. Once the rumbling stopped, the machine instantly shut down, a single spark fazing out from the innards of the monitor, forever unresponsive.

* * *

Making his way back down was much easier than going up, although he had to be careful to not get overzealous and miss a platform. It was much easier to fall than it was to jump, but he wasn't too warm to the idea of testing his limits to their brink just yet, and instead carefully made his way down with short, controlled falls and leaps.

The floor of the column was devoid of any movement; the two blue robots had left when they saw that he had managed to open the door (he assumed the one with the broken legs was just carried), and the non-responsive robot sitting in the corner was as still as a statue. His missile launcher and his machine gun were both exactly where he had left them, thankfully; he placed the launcher behind his right shoulder and clipped the machine gun to his left. Fully equipped, he left the room, eager to find his way out of this 'Labyrinth' and get his way back to Sue and Kazuma, and Curly.

The narrow, short hallways were damp and dark, forcing his head low and he often had to walk sideways through some of the tighter areas. All the same, while the rocky walls would painfully scrape against his skin occasionally, it was all fairly linear to him; there were no constant forks and junctions like he had assumed the Labyrinth to be, and rarely were there obstacles he had to step over or duck under. He felt a sense of claustrophobia as he continued, although the narrow spaces didn't bother him so much as his often inability to see where he was going.

Finally managing to push out into a wider, well-lit area, the first creature to greet him was a cockroach the size of a man. It was scavenging the ground, looking for any miniscule scrap of anything that could be considered edible; it dove forward to eat what might have been a mouse, or a leaf or blade of grass from someplace else, or even a smaller insect, its huge mandibles working hard to process the food for its empty belly.

Quote opted not to approach it aggressively, though there wasn't a lot of room for him to walk past in the one-way path leading farther into the maze. The cockroach hadn't noticed him yet; if he was just quiet and kept to himself, he should be able to squeeze right past the giant bug, without any fuss.

He back to the wall, he shimmied his way quietly forward, slinking his way past the cockroach without making too much noise. Inevitably, however, the cockroach noticed the pearl-white robot trying to sneak past him, and turned to look Quote in the eye, its own eyes taking up more than half its head. He kept going, though, careful not to make any sudden movement and provoke the thing mistakenly.

"Hello there!" it said cheerfully. _That_ caused him to stop in his tracks. "Are you new to the Labyrinth?" Its voice was very scratchy and sounded almost improvised, but its words were eligible enough. Just what _didn't_ speak in this island?! "Ah, you don't need to say anything," it said, its mandibles moving with his 'words' but his expression otherwise unchanging – maybe. He had an unsurprisingly difficult time reading a cockroach's expressions and emotions. "We get that look of total surprise and shock down here in the Labyrinth with every newcomer. We Gaudi don't take offence to it; how often do you see a species like ours speak so casually, huh?" It made some kind of laughing noise as it spoke – maybe.

It scurried up to Quote quickly, walking on four of its rear legs, the other two probably passing for fingerless hands. It looked him over closely, with him still plastered to the wall, not making a move towards any of his weapons. "You're no Mimiga," it concluded. "You look more like one of those soldiers from the surface. Not that I was there, actually – I'm just going by the descriptions my ancestor's ancestors passed down to us. We didn't fight in the war, though; it wasn't our problem, so we just stayed out of everybody's hair. Fancy that, for Gaudi, am I right?" It made that odd laughing noise again; Quote remained still, unsure of what to think, exactly. "Oh, come on, lighten up," it said, sounding almost a little hurt. "You're a robot; gears and steel don't do much good for the system, you know? Nobody here is going to try and hurt you, so you can stop giving me that look any minute now."

The Gaudi's voice and tone implied that he really didn't mean any harm, but the _sound_ of its voice was just way too spooky to him. It took a moment to convince himself, but he slowly relaxed, coming away from the rocky wall of the cave and dropping his arms to his sides non-threateningly. "You see? There you go," it chirped happily. "You just spend some time with us and you'll find that we can be just as cute and cuddly as the Mimiga." Quote couldn't tell if it was serious or not.

"So, hey, listen," the bug said as he faced into the cave, expecting Quote to start following. "We recently found another robot just like you, only a few hours ago. Same skin tone as you, but other than that, well…you all look alike to us, you know? I'm sure it's the same deal with you." As they crested a short hill, the floor of the Labyrinth opened up dramatically, revealing a well-maintained windowless house off in the distance, but more than that, there were a dozen more of those Gaudi roaming the floors in search of any scrap of food they could find. Aside from varying sizes, it was correct: Quote couldn't tell them apart. "We're keeping it in that house just over – hey, man, how's it going?" it derailed, waving one of its pseudo-hands towards another of the insects off in the distance. "…over there; it seemed pretty badly beat up. We're having some – hey, you, how's the east side treating you?" Were these creatures this social by design, or was it just him? Just as quickly as he paused his discussion with Quote, he resumed it. "We're having some doctors look at it. Or, at least, they _say_ they're doctors, but I haven't seen their credentials or anything, so I dunno for certain."

Quote suddenly sped up his walking, the mere mention of the title 'doctor' quickening his pace and his nerves. It wasn't likely that _the _Doctor was down here, actually treating a patient, but his worried mind raced with possibilities all the same. What if actually _was_ him? What if these Gaudi were in on it? Would he have to fight his way out?

His right hand was placed lightly on the shoulder clamp of his machine gun as he reached for the door's handle with his left, ready to lock-and-load at a moment's notice if he had to – although, having just gotten back from a devastating battle himself (his head still throbbed from whatever clubbed him after the fact), he wasn't sure if he was physically prepared for quite this much more action.

Inside the building were more Gaudi, which didn't really surprise him, and the same two blue robots he had met earlier were mingling with the insects in the far corner, apparently having survived the walk. What _was_ fairly peculiar was how the building was stacked to the ceiling in various locations with metal crates, each adorned with a crudely-painted missile on its side. A munitions warehouse, maybe? An odd place to practice medicine, but then again, there probably weren't a lot of homes in the Labyrinth, period.

"It's just over here," his new travelling companion said, pushing past him and walking further into the warehouse. "And relax, eh? I told you, you're not a Mimiga, so you're safe from us."

"Aw, he's not?" asked another, lurking in the shadows near the door, startling Quote. He had to resist the urge to pull the machine gun off his shoulder and start firing. "That's really too bad. I'm _so_ hungry for Mimiga flesh…"

"Hey, don't surprise him like that," the first one scolded, turning around to get in the other's face. "The guy's new here, and he's pretty jumpy as it is. He doesn't need any more surprises like that."

"Come on, he _even_ smells like Mimiga!" The first one's voice erupted into a confusing flurry of clicks and trills, speaking in a language totally unknown to him. They continued speaking in their way for a few seconds, the first one sounding angrier and angrier, before the second finally yielded. "My bad, then," it finished, hiding back in its corner. If nothing else, these creatures at least seemed moderately courteous. They both resumed walking back into the warehouse, brushing past one giant metal crate after another, going deeper into the warehouse. Quote was beginning to get a little nervous and distrusting, when they finally came to a room with its door open, and in the room were two smaller creatures, with Curly sitting up on the bed.

He rushed into the room, pushing past the insect, suddenly concerned over what she was doing in the bed, and why she needed doctors. At first glance, she didn't seem very well; her legs appeared stiff, and her right arm was kept in a sloppy splint. Her hair was a mess and her tank-top was a little ripped. Had she gotten into a fight? Was she okay?

She looked up when she heard running footsteps enter the room. Her expression immediately perked, a wide smile spreading across her face when she realized who it was. "Oh, hey Quote!" she called cheerfully, waving her good hand at him as he approached. "I haven't seen _you_ in a while! You're looking pretty good! Fancy new sword, too!" He didn't reply, instead smiling sheepishly back at her. He wished he felt as good as he apparently looked.

"That witch sent you down here too, huh?" she asked, quickly changing the subject to something a bit more neutral. "Same as me! Well, no duh, right?" She laughed at herself, but her expression quickly changed to something a bit more downtrodden as she recalled those events. "So, you must not have been able to beat them after all…I had seen you fight – heh, my hand still hurts from that wicked nice shot you made – so I had my hopes for you. You seemed way more capable than me, so I was kinda banking on you being able to beat them for me.

"Shortly after you left with Hajime, the witch and her lunchbox showed up at my little orphanage. They wanted the kids for something, wouldn't say what. I put that Polar Star you gave me to work – I still got it right here, see?" She leaned to her side, showing the pistol still dutifully attached to a makeshift holster on her hip. "I put up one heck of a fight, but, well…" She waved her splinted arm, and ran her other hand through her hair. "You can probably guess how it ended. I blacked out before I could save any of the children…" It was clearly a painful memory for her to bring up. "In the shape I'm in now, I won't be leaving any time soon."

"Nurse," the doctor whispered, just loud enough for Quote and the nurse to hear. He turned away from Curly to see who was talking; he hadn't gotten a clear look of anyone else when he first entered the room, being too focused on Curly. The doctor was fairly short in stature, only standing up to his chest. His body shape was almost exactly like Balrog's, only with little peaks on the top of his head where his eyebrows would be. His skin was a fair green and his eyes were a pitch-black. He wore a doctor's overcoat with a tiny red tie clipped onto his neck. Could this guy really be considered a physician?

"Help the girl relax," the doctor ordered. The nurse looked almost exactly the same as the doctor, only its eyes were larger and wider, and wore nothing except a nurse's cap on the top of its skull. It also appeared to be wearing some kind of blush on its 'cheeks'. "You, boy," it continued, pointing at Quote with its little stub-arms. "I'd like to talk to you outside for a moment."

He looked back at Curly, who was also listening. She gave him a warm smile. "Go on," she encouraged, shooing them both away with her good hand. "I'll be fine, don't you worry. These are good people, trust me." With her leave, Quote exited the room just behind the doctor, closing the door softly behind him.

"Are you related to that girl?" it asked, cutting right to the chase. The familiar feeling of being unable to answer honestly gripped him. They could very well have been related, for all he honestly knew. He decided that their acquainted relationship was honest enough, though, and nodded his head. "I see. She was pretty beat up when she was first found down here in the Labyrinth. Twisted ankles, dislocated arms, torn skin…needless to say, she was a mess. Whoever she fought up there meant business." He looked back at the door, peeking through its only tiny window inside the room. Misery and Balrog had really done all that to her? They just kept giving him reasons to pay them back.

"But don't worry about her," the doctor continued confidently. "I specialize in humans and Mimiga, and she's clearly not human, but she heals like one. A few casts and splints and band-aides, and she was nearly ready to go four hours later. You robots are pretty darn hardy. She was just being melodramatic when she said that she wasn't going to be able to leave anytime soon; I'm nearly ready to kick her out now." He chuckled lowly to himself; Quote didn't find it the least bit amusing. Did they really use _band-aides_? "If you're willing to wait an hour or two, I can send you both off in a bit."

Quote nodded, looking back through the window as the nurse helped Curly lie down as she prepared to actually _remove_ the fresh gauze on the splint. He supposed that it shouldn't be that surprising: if he could take a crushing hit to the stomach and walk it off just a quarter-hour later, then it would make sense that she had the same unusual healing ability. He wouldn't mind waiting another little while as she recovered.

The tiny physician wordlessly entered the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Quote in the open warehouse filled with containers carrying missiles. His own launcher was a little low on ammo; he had used a decent bulk of them fighting off Toroko only a few hours ago. Now would be a good time to restock.

He jumped to the top of a stack that wasn't pressed against the ceiling and, after fiddling with the locks on the end of the container, managed to swing the door open to reveal boxes and crates, each containing armed missiles. These creatures were either extremely daring, or just oblivious: any violent mistreatment, or maybe a house-fire or something, could cause these things to explode and lift the roof right off the whole island.

He reached into the crate and pulled out a single missile, finding an empty clamp to attach it to. But it wouldn't fit; the missile in general, but particularly the warhead, was a good size larger than his usual ammunition and couldn't successfully clamp in place to his launcher. He searched the other boxes, looking for some missiles that was more his make, but couldn't find any; they were all the same size, unable to fit onto his own weapon.

"Hey, there," he heard from below him. He turned around, looking down to the bottom of the stack, seeing another of those Gaudi standing vertically and looking up towards him. "Having some trouble?"

Quote saw that there wasn't any use in staying up here and trying to find the proverbial needle-in-the-hay-stack, so he may as well jump down and see what the giant insect wanted. Just as soon as he landed, the Gaudi knew what the problem was. "I may not look like it," it began. "In fact, we may not look like a lot of things, honestly, but I'm actually a trained munitions expert. And I can tell right away that the missile launcher you have there is too obsolete for our stock." Quote was surprised, realizing that this creature was better-versed when it came to weapons than himself. "But these older Mark Two Standard Rocket Shoulder-Mounted Launchers – that's a mouthful, I know – have a few awesome pieces of tech in them that later versions had to pull for one reason or another. So, I'll tell you what." It turned away from him and began pacing towards another crate in the far corner. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing had in mind. "Trade me your own SRSML Mark Two, and I'll give you this."

From the box, the Gaudi pulled out a missile launcher very similar to his own, but coloured a more conspicuous orange compared to his white, and it appeared to have a good deal other buttons and gizmos equipped to it. "This is an SRSML Mark Three. It can hold up to a dozen more missiles than your own; the sight has been upgraded to include information such as compass direction, depth, and enemy targets in range; and it has a sort of 'panic' option where it unloads all its stock with a press of a button. Guaranteed to take down even the most frenzied of Mimiga, no sweat." Quote was almost sold on the deal, until he was reminded on what he could be using it on again. "While your launcher cannot supply Mark Three cargo, a Mark Three can support a Mark Two's cargo, so if you find any more missiles outside of the Labyrinth, you're still good to go. Not that you'll need to keep your current missiles, given our…surplus stock." It extended the launcher towards him, ready to make the trade as soon as he accepted the deal. "So! Just gimme your Mark Two, and I'll give you this Mark Three in exchange."

"You sure don't waste your breath, do you?" another Gaudi asked, overhearing the entire sales-pitch. "You've been practicing that sale, or what?"

"Nah," it replied, "I'm just excited to get that launcher of his. I could really use its parts to make something better." It turned back to Quote, the launcher it was carrying extended forward in its feeler-like 'hands'. "We got a deal?"

Quote accepted the weapon from it, at first simply looking it over. He own launcher always had at least one missile still loaded into it, but just from a cursory feel, the Mark Three was quite a bit lighter than his own. Whoever manufactured these weapons certainly had the user's best interests in mind. He brought the shoulder mount onto his right shoulder, looking down its sight as he did with his current weapon – the grips were a little closer while the whole weapon was a little longer, and the weapon had a small scope to peer through as his sights.

"There's a switch on the scope that you press to turn on all those features I told you about," the Gaudi said. Quote searched the scope, and there was indeed a small button on the outside. He pressed it, and the inside of the scope came to life, giving him all sorts of readouts: there was a compass on the bottom of the eyepiece; a digital clock in the upper right-hand corner; and a radar on the left-hand side. As the reticule on the centre of the eyepiece roamed over several different targets, a small icon blipped on the radar, and a scale on the bottom right-hand corner told him the distance between where he was standing and his locked-on target, as well as an estimated time the rocket would take to hit after it fired.

Quote was very impressed with the whole set-up, and was more than willing to make the trade, even if physically holding it would take some quick getting used to. "Now, I know what you're thinking," the Gaudi continued. "It makes no sense for me to be willing to trade such a high-tech piece of equipment for something obsolete, right? And for free, even? Well, like I said, Mark Two's have a bit of tech under-the-hood that Mark Three's do not have, and if I could just get a hold of one like yours, I'd have all that I need to make a truly remarkable piece of armament later. I already have the specs and blueprints all drawn up and mapped out, and in fact, I was busy at work making it some time ago, but we were burgled recently, and my prototype was one of the things they took from us. That, and…" it stepped aside, allowing Quote to look into the crate that it had pulled the missile launcher from. "As you can see, we're pretty stocked up on Mark Three's anyhow, even after the recent burglary. May as well pass some out. So, what do you say, friend?" it asked again. "We got a deal?"

Quote lowered the new launcher to make room for his old one to swing around his arm, offering his weapon by the strap. "Oh, you can keep the shoulder strap," it offered. "You'd have more use for it than I would." He nodded thankfully, unclipping the strap on both ends from the weapon, and clipping them back on to his new weapon. "Pleasure doing business with you!" it chirped happily, rushing behind his crate and wasting no time in dissecting the Mark Two, feverishly digging for those fabled chips of technology.

He still had some time to kill before Curly was well enough to leave, so he spent it just bumming around the warehouse, enjoying but not using the new features on his missile launcher and getting reacquainted with its new grips. He wasn't particularly social himself, although the talkative, friendly nature of the Gaudi kindly picked up the slack for him; he didn't really need to go far or ask many questions, but one of them would always seem to find him and start a new conversation whenever he was left alone long enough. He was an excellent listener, and he learned several different facts and rumours, each always reinforced by another Gaudi that might have been listening in. He learned that they were on an island, and that the island was suspended thousands of feet in the air – although Jenka had told him the same story, so it wasn't news. He _did_ learn that whatever was keeping the island afloat was resting in the centre of the Labyrinth.

"Long, long ago," one of the Gaudi began – he had met and 'talked' to so many that they all just sort of blended together, so maybe he was actually listening to one he had already met. None of them introduced themselves with names, either, leading him to believe that their culture simply didn't include them. Nonetheless, he let it continue, "there lived a witch on this island. She's the one who constructed this Labyrinth, in order to keep us Gaudi penned up." Jenka fit that description fairly well, being a witch and being from 'long, long ago', although he doubted the Labyrinth was constructed simply for that purpose, if the first rumour held any weight to it.

The topic was changed swiftly to the maze itself, when some other Gaudi joined in the conversation. He wasn't sure if he should feel apprehensive about being surrounded by giant talking cockroaches. "There is an exit to this Labyrinth, you know," one of them pitched. "But it's covered by a giant boulder. And they say that moving the boulder would just be the beginning of your trials."

"That's true, there is a giant boulder at the end of the Labyrinth," another began. "And it's tough to call this place a 'Labyrinth', in all fairness, since it's mostly just one large line going from one end of the island to the other. No bends or twists anywhere in it."

Another Gaudi butted into the conversation, and none of them seemed to think a second thought about it – it seemed their entire livelihood was based around being social, where anyone could just cut into the middle of a discussion and nobody would object. "I heard that, during the war, the soldiers from the surface actually found the Labyrinth, and it lived up to its name easily. They wandered around, lost for weeks with no direction, trying to find their way out. Rather than try to figure it out, though, they just blew up the walls until they found what they wanted."

It was very interesting, listening and learning from the Gaudi. He managed to pinpoint some of the subtle differences between the females and the males (thanks wholly to some Gaudi helpfully pointing them out to him): the females had shorter mandibles and antennae, and had hairless backs, compared to the rough, short fur-like hair on the males. Other than those few minor differences, they were all roughly the same height, and their voices were always very scratchy, nearly sounding fake, with little deviation between them.

He occasionally flicked the scope of his new, fully-loaded missile launcher on to toy with some of its new features, but more importantly, he focused more on the clock in the corner, to monitor how long Curly had been in the room in the distance of the warehouse. Shortly after an hour and a half, Curly emerged from the room, fully dressed and without any bandages or splints on her – she appeared totally recovered: as healthy as the moment he met her. Which itself was less than half a day ago, he realized.

"…as a horse," he heard the physician say as he excitedly jogged up to her. "There isn't a whole lot more I can do for you, Miss Brace. You've recovered faster than I could patch you up; surely you knew that combat androids like yourself had exceptional healing properties, right?"

"No, I didn't!" she insisted, twirling around to face the little doctor that only stood to her knees, briefly looking Quote in the eye as she registered him. She moved naturally and fluidly enough for him to believe that she had made a full recovery, even if she didn't quite believe it herself. "I'm not a 'combat' anything, either! Ask Quote, he knows how well I can handle a gun! Tell him, Quote!"

They both looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to give his answer. His eyes shifted between them both, nervously wondering what exactly he should say as Curly crossed her arms and began tapping her feet. She _was_ pretty…fresh with the machine gun. He gave the doctor a sheepish nod as he shrugged his shoulders, for the most part confirming her story that she wasn't exactly the most battle-hardened character he knew.

"Well, whether or not you're any good with a weapon is beside the point," he said matter-of-factly. "All signs of your earlier injuries are gone, Miss Brace, and just from how your standing there, your arms crossed and your feet tapping, I can see that your shoulders, elbows and ankles have all healed splendidly. Your black eyes are gone, too. There simply isn't anything more I can do to help you, whether you think so or not."

"But I don't think–"

"There are Gaudi I must be tending to, Miss Brace," he interrupted, which seemed odd to Quote; didn't the physician say he specialized in Mimiga and humans? The Gaudi looked nothing like either. "I, of course, don't mean to be rude, but if there's nothing more that I can do for you, then there's nothing more I can do for you." And before Curly could get another clear word in, the doctor had returned to his room, closing his door behind him.

Curly stammered a bit, trying to find the appropriate words to summarize just how she felt about the physician's attitude. "What a jerk!" she finally managed to yell, facing Quote. "What kind of doctor turns his back on his patients like that? He knew I barely had the strength to stand when I showed up here, and he just kicks me out a few hours later? Where's the etiquette? Where's the professionalism?!" She was clearly irritated about the whole debacle, although he didn't see what she was fretting over; she didn't look like she was hurt at all. Maybe she just wasn't used to the idea that they, as robots, recovered pretty swiftly compared to the organics of the island.

She fumed to herself over how rude the doctor was to her, but calmed down enough to speak to Quote about more important matters than herself. "I guess he's not wrong about me being better, though," she lamented, waving her arms and kicking her legs, and not feeling the littlest pinch of pain from any part of her body. "But enough about me and my problems; how did you get down here, Quote? Did you get what you needed from Jenka?" He didn't respond – he didn't know _how_ he got down here, since everything after leaving the storehouse was a total blank, and he had an emotionally difficult time recalling everything that happened in it. "Hey, you don't need to answer," she said reassuringly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If it was as tough for you to handle as it was for me, then, well, say no more." He gave her a thankful look, and she responded with a kind smile. "But, either way," she continued, "we need to get back out somehow. Do you have any ideas?"

"Oh, hey," another Gaudi interrupted, overhearing that last part. "You say you need to get out of the Labyrinth?"

"Yes, we do!" replied Curly, putting on a friendly grin as she talked to the five-foot bipedal cockroach. She might have been acquainted with them already, as far as he knew. "Do you have any ideas? Is there a way out of here?"

"Nope," it replied. "None that we have found. But don't get your hopes down; way at the East end of the Labyrinth is a room with a single, giant boulder in it that supposedly blocks the last exit out of here. If you can move that rock, then you might just have your way out."

"And you've never, say, gotten together and pooled your strength to move it? Or maybe build something to help you move it?"

"Nah, we don't need to," it chirped joyfully. "We have everything we need down here, and we've never really had much want or reason to find a way out, so we're never really gave it a try. You're more than welcome to give it a go, though."

She smiled again. "Thanks for the tip!"

"You're very welcome. Anytime!"

The very first Gaudi he met was nearly correct: they weren't nearly as cute and cuddly as Mimiga, but they were alright folks all the same.

* * *

Straight ahead from the hut, the Labyrinth continued as far as they could see. There were hills reaching as high as the ceiling, and valleys that stretched for miles and miles in all directions. There were no features or landmarks in the Labyrinth; it would have been all too easy to get lost and find yourself wandering the vast, seemingly limitless dusty desert of the Labyrinth forever. However, the Gaudi littered the entire area, and they seemed to have no trouble telling one area of the infinite Labyrinth from the next. Having lived there for entire generations, certain spots and signs in the walls made for easy landmarks, and they could tell where they were at all times.

Curly did all the talking for the both of them, and then some, usually, being a veritable chatterbox. Despite their memories only expanding the last few days or so, she always managed to find a topic to ramble on about, like what the rest of the island looked like, or if there were any other creatures within the island. Quote didn't have a ton to say, on the other hand, but he was an excellent listener and he happily paid attention to everything she said, laughing at her jokes and considering some of her wilder ideas about the island and whatever else might be living in it. After bipedal cockroaches, pretty much anything was still possible.

Thanks to the handy new missile launcher Quote had, it wasn't the least bit difficult to keep track of their direction with the compass built into the sight. They travelled at a steady east, never seeing anything that particularly caught their eyes as far as landmarks or just sight-seeing went for nearly an hour after beginning their trek. Neither of them were the least bit tired from all the walking: Quote was simply used to it after Grasstown and the Sand Zone, although he wasn't too certain about Curly's stamina.

There were traces of the war from ten years ago strewn about the far eastern end of the Labyrinth: there were tread marks strewn across the ground from where tanks had rolled on, and there were weapons, helmets and some rubber boots lying idly on the ground in scattered places. The weapons were far too rusted to be any more use, and the boots that were still in decent, wearable condition were always the wrong size. Not that they really entertained the idea of using either anyway.

One of the most particular relics of the past was a gigantic tank that was parked seemingly in the middle of nowhere. There was no evidence of a town or anything nearby that could have been in the tank's way – it seemed as though it was simply abandoned for almost no reason. It had four sets of treads, the tank itself taking on an X-shape, with two treads on the floor and the other two pressed solidly against the ceiling. Each tread was large enough for Quote to stand on and still have more than enough room for manoeuvrability. The centre of the shape was fortified well, surrounded by a thick, light-brown metal that had a single, small opening in the centre on either side. On all for of its thick, strong legs was a metal green chute; a small device that appeared to be used to either fire something out, judging from the burnt soot on the rims of the chutes.

After investigating the tank – Curly said she wanted to just because it was there, but he knew she was looking for something that might be able to tell her more about herself – with nothing to yield from it, they continued their long walk down the emptiness of the Labyrinth. The Gaudi had stopped appearing regularly two miles ago, and there weren't any to find wandering out as far as they were. Just how large was the island if this place continued straight ahead for as long as it did? Just as Quote was beginning to wonder about their position, the endless floor simply halted as a wall crawled its way over the horizon with each step forward. There was an opening in the bottom of the wall – they hoped it led to that room with the supposedly impassable boulder blocking their way out. Once the wall was totally visible over the cresting horizon, they broke into a steady jog towards it.

Just past the small arch leading away from the huge nothingness of the Labyrinth was another, smaller room, containing no large boulder. It was a vertical shaft, much like the room Quote had awoken in, although they were already at the top of the shaft, and the bottom was beyond their field of vision, fading into the darkness a few stories straight down. There were no makeshift platforms suspended by chains like before: a drop down was a one-way trip.

Across from the ledge they were standing on was another. Three metres away or so; it'd be quite the jump to make, although he was confident that he could clear it. There was a wooden door on it, although what was beyond it was anyone's guess.

"I'm willing to bet that's where our way out is," Curly said, already stretching her legs and knees. "So all we gotta do it make this jump, right? Okay, that shouldn't be too hard." With little warning, she began sprinting towards the edge, pumping her legs and swinging her arms wide as she neared that edge, ready to spring forward and put her life in that one long jump–

Quote managed to grab her by the shoulder just as she took the first few steps, stopping her before she could even get close. He looked really anxious, and sighed heavily when he managed to stop her. "What?" she asked curiously. "We have to make this jump, you know. There's no other place left for us to go, unless you want to wander in the Labyrinth some more." He shook his head – he knew that this was where they needed to be. He glanced downwards, towards her ankles, and then turned over his shoulder, looking down into the seemingly bottomless pit. "Oh, I get it, you're worried that I'm still hurt and that I might not make it." He nodded once slowly, confirming her suspicions. "That's really sweet of you, Quote, but don't worry about me. If my ankles were hurting me that badly, do you think I would have been able to walk all the way across the Labyrinth on my own two feet? That tiny little doctor, as rude as he was, was right – I'm feeling fit as a fiddle. I can make that jump, don't you worry."

He glanced back towards the pit, and then back at her, pointing his thumb towards himself. "You want to jump first?" He nodded determinedly. "Still no, Quote. Don't get me wrong – I know you can make it. You seem to be way better at the whole 'being a soldier' thing than me, moving and shooting the way you do. But, aside from my clothes, all I'm carrying is the tiny Polar Star. You're carrying a machine gun, a missile launcher, a sword, and I don't even know what else. I want to be on the other side first so I can catch you in case, you know, you need catching." She raised a good point: he was carrying quite a bit of equipment, and he took it all off when he first woke up in the Labyrinth specifically to make his movement easier. He didn't have that luxury this time; he wasn't sure what his limits were with all the weights.

She smiled, winked, and flicked him on his steel nose. "Haven't you learned to never argue with the girls yet? We're always right." She laughed to herself when she saw his dumbfounded expression as he tried thinking up different scenarios and possibilities, all so he could go first. "I'm making this jump first, Quote, and I'm not taking a no for an answer."

With no further objections, she took a few steps away from the ledge to give herself running room. Taking a deep breath and giving each of her ankles a quick twist – _man,_ she thought to herself, _now Quote's made me nervous_ – she turned around and gauged the distance between her starting point and the ledge. Backing up just a little bit more, she sprinted forward, pumping her legs and swinging her arms wide as she neared that ledge, and this time Quote didn't try to stop her, against his better judgment.

Just as her right foot hit the very end of the ledge, she sprung forward with everything she had, flexing her knee and her ankle as she left the ground. Her arms still swinging and her legs still kicking as she soared through the air towards the other side, it was clear to them both when she made it halfway that she was going to make it. She didn't let up on her movements, though, and landed on her left foot gracelessly on the other side. She tripped and faltered a bit as she rode out the last of her momentum, but managed to stay upright as she finally came to a stop, safely on the other end of the gap.

Just as she landed, a peculiar humming sound filled the air just above them both. It sounded familiar to Quote – not quite the sound a teleporter makes when it's active, but still oddly similar to it. He looked up, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound–

A man quickly fell between him and Curly, going straight down the gap between the ledges. He was hollering in fear, his limbs flapping and his body spinning as he flew down the pit, unable to grasp anything that might break his fall. Quote almost didn't recognize any features on the man, but he managed to catch a few tells as his spun and fell. That relatively short figure; the white lab coat that flapped loosely in the wind; the white Mohawk; the rose-pink glasses as the man managed to catch a definite look right at Quote on his way down…

Professor Booster yelled nothing in particular as he fell – just a single, flat tone as he careened out of control straight down for who knows how far. Quote had no idea what had led to this, or how Professor Booster had even appeared there in the first place, but his first instinct was to jump down after him and see if he could be saved before anything happened.

He and Curly were looking nervously straight down the pit, watching Professor Booster fall and slowly disappear into the darkness. There was no heavy 'flump' noise of him hitting the ground, and his yelling seemed to continue into infinity, echoing off the rocky walls back up to them as he fell. Quote began searching for a way down – some rocks that he could use as a ladder and climb down, or something. He had to get down there!

"Quote?" Curly asked, noticing him looking around the room for something frantically. He turned back to her, looking her in the eyes – he was terrified, and was panicking over needing to find a way down there. After losing Toroko and King, he wasn't looking forward to talking with Sue and Kazuma over losing their mentor. "You're not seriously trying to find a way down, are you?" He nodded a few times quickly, scanning the walls: the rocks and boulders were all too smooth to make for good footholds. There had to be _something_!

"No, Quote, don't do something that stupid!" He looked back at her, his eyes wide and his mouth open dumbly as he tried to coherently drum up a reason why he _had_ to. "I don't know who that guy was, but come on, Quote! We don't know how far down this thing goes. We haven't even heard him land yet!" Professor Booster's yell continued to reverberate off the walls, although it was extremely faint by now. "And I don't know why it's so important to you, but think about it…I'm sure you've made some other friends since you woke up. If you chase after that guy, you might just wind up losing yourself too." He was listening, and he looked like he didn't want to.

"We'll come back for him later, I promise," she said soothingly, trying to appeal to him on a softer scale. "But right now, we need to get out of this Labyrinth. And I'm not about to go on without you, Quote." She paused, seeing him calm down a bit after she had made that promise to him. "Just…come on. Make the jump, and we can get out of this place."

He looked down the pit again, and he couldn't deny that she was right. Like in the shaft he woke up in, it extended so far that he couldn't see just how far up it went, and if this shaft was the same height, falling straight down would definitely be a death sentence. Since there were no clear footholds in the walls either, he had to agree that it'd be suicide to attempt it.

Defeated, his conscious heavy and his mind clouded with the idea of simply leaving Professor Booster there without making any real attempt to rescue him, he backed up to give himself as much room as he needed, like Curly had. Eyeing the edge of the ledge, he sprinted forward, mimicking Curly's actions exactly, and sprung forward much like she had off his right foot. He continued to make the movements in the air, getting as much distance as he could with the jump. Even with all his equipment weighing him down, he still managed to clear the jump without Curly's help, although not with as much leeway as she had. Regardless, she stood on the edge, her arms outstretched to catch him, just in case.

He collided full force into Curly's open arms, the both of them tumbling over each other from the momentum of the leap as they hit the rear wall hard, Quote on his back, and Curly on her stomach. They both moaned a bit as they pulled themselves to their feet; Curly dusted off her clothes, though Quote didn't bother. Having gone this far without a fresh set of clothes, he figured he was just going to get them dirty again soon anyway.

"Try not to let it get you down, Quote," she said as she reached for the knob of the door. "I know what it's like to lose friends and loved ones…believe me, I do." He had nearly forgotten about how she lost her four young Mimiga when she was brought here. She did mention how she had 'adopted' them shortly after she woke up – it must still be eating her up on the inside, knowing that the Doctor had them wherever he was keeping Mimiga, and there was nothing she could do to protect them from him now. She was putting up a brave face as she turned the knob, trying to convince Quote that it wasn't bothering her as much as she wanted him to believe, but he could feel that she was as close to breaking down over it as he was.

Past the door was a small room, barely the size of the warehouse at the beginning of the Labyrinth. In it was a single massive boulder, covering an obvious hole in the wall – they could see the outline of the way out peek out from the corners of the boulder, and there was also a steady breeze coming from the cracks. The boulder was adorned with a string of paper charms, although their purpose was lost on them both. It looked as though it would have required at least two, healthy people to move the boulder, but even then they had doubts.

"So, that Gaudi was telling the truth, alright," Curly narrated, placing her hands on her hips as she eyed the giant rock over. "If we can just get this big rock out of the way, we can get to the exit." She hummed to herself, judging all the numerous ways they could try to get the boulder out of the way. Lifting it? Rolling it? Quote was at her side, considering their options as well. "You know what's on the other side?" she asked, turning to look him in the eyes. He shook his head no. "Well, I heard some Gaudi mention a rumour about a monster nest that lies just beyond here. But you heard it yourself: none of the Gaudi even bothered to _try_ and move it for whole generations. So a rumour's just a rumour, you know?" She rubbed her palms together. "Anyway, let's get this thing out of the way. You hold that side." She pointed to the left side of the boulder as she made her way to the right.

The robots were on either side of the boulder, their hands firmly held onto some part of the boulder's craggy notches and grips. "Ready?" asked Curly, readjusted her own grip. "On the count of three, we push. One…two…" They both pushed on the boulder with all their might in one direction, trying to get the obstacle to yield under their collected strength. "_Three!_" Curly groaned as she flexed her arms and legs, prying her fingers across the stone as she put everything she had into getting the rock to move. Quote was putting in just as much effort, sliding his feet across the ground, trying to find a catch for him to gain leverage with as he put every ounce of strength into moving the rock. However, despite all their efforts, the boulder didn't so much as budge. It remained firmly in place, unmoved a single inch.

They rested a brief few seconds to catch their breath. Their fingers remained locked in place on the boulder. "_Again!_" Curly grunted as they tried once more to get the boulder to move. This was their only way out of the Labyrinth; if this failed, they'd have no way to get back to the Mimiga village, or to Sand Zone, or anywhere else on the island. Regardless, the only thing that moved in the room was the dirt under their heels as their feet slid across the ground when the boulder would not.

Curly sighed, letting go of the rock and dropping her hands to her sides. She looked the boulder over some more, unsure of what they should do. "It hasn't moved one bit," she lamented. "I'm not sure if the two of us are strong enough…what do you think we should do? Should we try going back through the Labyrinth and ask some of the Gaudi for help?" Quote shook his head no – the walk back would cost them too much time, and there wasn't even a guarantee that the Gaudi would even be willing. He had another idea, though: he slipped his new missile launcher over his shoulder, readying his sights squarely on the centre of the boulder. He had used missile to blow open a rusted, reinforced door before; there wasn't anything to suggest it wouldn't work on a boulder.

They were both stepping away from the boulder, giving themselves as much space as they could before Quote pulled that trigger to unleash a flurry of missiles right into the boulder. "Huzzah!" they heard just before Quote could do the deed: a huge 'bang' filled the room from just outside the door, and just as quickly, Balrog came bursting through the door – destroying the frame with it.

Quote quickly changed targets, aiming his missile launcher right at Balrog's giant, flat face. The stab wounds King had given him were patched together, although it looked fairly second-hand and poorly done. Seeing Balrog only reminded him of the whole episode in the storehouse, and he wasn't above just unloading everything he had right then and there, to vent his anger and frustrations at the Doctor into Balrog, without giving him the chance to explain himself like he normally had in the past.

"You!" Curly shouted – and she didn't sound the least bit livid about seeing him. Quote took his eye off the sight just long enough to look at Curly, to see if he could decipher would she was thinking. She was grinning widely, like she had when she first saw Quote in the warehouse a few hours ago. She couldn't _really_ be happy to see Balrog, could she? Wasn't Balrog one of the ones who beat her to a bloody pulp? Wasn't Balrog one of the ones that took her adopted children from her? She should be just as infuriated at seeing that huge, empty grin on the briefcase's face as he was.

Balrog laughed cheerfully when he saw the two robots, and almost totally ignored Quote's missile launcher, as if he almost expected him not to fire. "You're both alive, I see! You, boy soldier," he said, pointing his right stub at Quote, "how's that lump on the head treating you? And you, girl soldier," he continued, moving the same stub to Curly, "I'm impressed you're even out and about after how badly me and Misery whooped you back in the Sand Zone!"

_That's_ how Quote fell unconscious after he left the storehouse? Balrog managed to slip behind him and knock him out? He just felt more and more vindicated against him the more he spoke. "Heh, yeah, you sure got me good," Curly replied, obviously not sharing the ire. "Water under the bridge, though." He nearly gagged on his own breath when she said that; was she _serious_?!

Balrog seemed unfazed from Curly's open understanding of the situation and her passiveness towards the whole ordeal. "And you're also trying to get out of the Labyrinth! Now, we can't have that, can we? Shouldn't you be staying put like good little robots?" Balrog eased his giant grin as he approached a more mutual topic. "You can't stand up to my master any more than I can, you know. As long as he's got that Demon Crown on him, he's no mere human; his power is even greater than Misery's! And you think you can fight that? I'd like to see you try!"

"So, hey," Curly interrupted, stepping forward a bit. Quote didn't know we he didn't just start exploding the briefcase when he first got the chance. "You're just who we were looking for. We need some extra muscle to move this boulder; could you take the middle? You look pretty strong. We should be able to get it out of the way with your help, easy!"

Balrog was caught off-guard from that sort of request, and it showed. He had an incredulous look, pausing before responding for a moment. "Are you even listening to me? Why would I help you?" he asked seriously. Quote was pretty surprised by her suddenness as well, and just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she wasn't absolutely fuming at him. "You're keeping up with everything happening around you, right, girl soldier? You _are_ aware that you and I are supposed to be bitter rivals, right? You two are the shining heroes of justice and virtue, and I'm a stout advocate for all the evil and bleakness in today's world, and all that jazz. We're supposed to hate each other."

She openly laughed at his aggrandized version of their positions. "Yeah, I've been keeping up," she managed to say between quick giggles. "I haven't forgotten what you've done to me in the Sand Zone. But here in the Labyrinth – in 'the island's trash heap', remember – I think we can make an exception. That witch woman that you were paired with must have ran out of uses for you, and that's why you're here, right? So we're all in the same boat, and I'm sure you're here, in this chamber, because you want to get out of here just as badly as we do."

Balrog was left speechless again, although for different reasons; he hadn't thought of things from her perspective, and she managed to drill a hole in his entire verbal defence without any effort at all. He thought Misery was just being a jerk, as always, but…could she really think he was useless now? What about the Doctor? What if it was his idea?! She was right about him wanting a way out of the Labyrinth, but now she had brought up all sorts of different possibilities and scenarios for him to seriously evaluate later.

"So, how about it?" she asked again, waving her arms towards the boulder. "Always room for one more. We would appreciate the favour." Quote kept his missile launcher aimed at Balrog, although her words had just as much an impact on him as it did on Balrog, and he was easing the tension in his arms. He still had a heated disfavour for Balrog, but, like she said: here in the Labyrinth, they were refugees looking for a way out before they were enemies.

Balrog stood still, processing his thoughts, before giving a soft, defeated chuckle. "Listen, girl soldier…hey, what are your names?"

Curly's expression beamed when he asked. "Well! My name is Curly, Curly Brace. And my friend with the itchy trigger finger here's name is Quote."

Balrog returned the smile, and it almost seemed genuine to Quote. "My name's Balrog, although boy sol– Quote, and I, are…well, we know each other." Balrog took a few steps backwards as he continued. "Listen. You've made a good point, Curly, and I'd rather not fight if I don't have to. That one Mimiga in the storehouse did a real number on me, and I'm hardly in any shape to keep going, see?" He tried to motion to the patches on his face, although it was a particularly difficult action for him, given the shapes of his arms. "But my allegiance is to whoever wears the Demon Crown, and I can't go against whoever wears it, no matter how much I want to."

"Why not?"

"I just…can't. Misery can't either. You wouldn't understand, Curly." Balrog widened his stance, looking as though he was about to charge forward. "I'll make you two a deal, though. If you can beat me in a fight – a fair fight. I'm not going to go easy on you – then I'll be forced to admit that there's nothing I can do to stop you, and I'll help you move the boulder."

"And if you win?" Curly asked, stalling while she reached for her Polar Star at her belt.

"Well…if I win, it'd be game over for you two. Not hard to imagine. Are you ready?" Before either of them could respond, he had charged forward, blindsiding Quote and knocking the missile launcher out of his surprised hands and giving him a hard kick to the stomach, catapulting him a small distance.

Curly quickly drew the Polar Star and began firing relentlessly at Balrog's body, aiming at no particular area. She had no strategy when she fought them both in the Sand Zone not so long ago, and her game plan hadn't changed a bit since then: pull the trigger and don't get hit. And like last time, Balrog responded to each shot with a flinch and a charge, changing his target to aim straight for her. She wasn't nearly as good at fighting as Quote was, but she had learned to dodge and counterattack since she and Quote had their fight.

Quote quickly pulled himself together and reached for his machine gun – before he changed his mind and unsheathed the sword instead. The chamber they were in was very small, naturally not lending itself to a lot of manoeuvrability, and he was worried he might get Curly in his sights in the struggle, so fighting with either the machine gun or the missile launcher would be uncomfortably risky. That, and, he was pretty confident he could fight Balrog toe-to-toe anyway, so it would be a good time to get in some practice with his swordsmanship.

Holding the sword by the handle in both hands to his right side – like how he saw King hold it – he wordlessly barrelled towards Balrog's backside and made an overhead swing, bringing it down as hard as he could onto Balrog's top. It bounced off his hide with a powerful 'twang', and the vibration sent a painful shock into his wrists, causing him to loosen his grip and lower the sword. Balrog certainly felt the strike, however, and immediately turned around to swat Quote as hard as he could with his left stub. As flimsy as his hands looked, they packed quite a punch: Quote was lifted right off the ground from the strength of the swing, and landed harshly on his side, dropping the sword mid-flight.

Curly kept up her own offensive while Balrog was distracted, pelting him with more of those air-like shots the Polar Star fired into his back, the top of his 'head' carrying a noticeable divot on its edge. She kept her feet planted just a little wider than her shoulder-width, and her arms locked straight forward as she made every shot. Balrog quickly whirled back around and charged straight for her, taking each shot to the face as he ran. Well before he was close enough to do any damage, Curly leapt off the ground, flying over her attacker while keeping her Polar Star trained on him. She jumped as high as Quote could, easily; she effortlessly cleared Balrog, but as she came crashing back down to the ground, twisting her ankles and mistakenly locking her knees, she still hadn't practiced her landings.

Quote was back up, the sword back in his hands as he considered running back to Balrog and starting their melee again. He tried to imagine himself moving like King when he watched him fight in the storehouse: fluidly dodging and strafing every swing and punch, reading his opponent's movements and tells without a problem and responding to each attack with one of his own. King never tried to make a particularly powerful swing like Quote had, instead sticking with smaller and quicker slices and thrusts to whittle down his target. And if Balrog was telling the truth about King making those two wounds on him, he must have _really_ put everything into it.

He ran forward, sword at his side and gripped tightly, ready to try and do some more damage. Balrog, well aware of the advance, leapt into the like Curly had, and began flapping his stubs to keep himself afloat. Quote had expected the trick, though, and was right in the air with him, the tip of his sword pointed forward to make another devastating thrust into the briefcase's other cheek.

What Quote hadn't expected was for Balrog's outer casing to suddenly flap open on the outsides, revealing a large array of armaments suddenly pointed towards him, each armed with a single large missile. Before Quote could extend his arms forward, the missiles each launched all at once, threatening to rip him apart – the memory of the damage his own missile launcher did to Balrog when he was transformed into that giant frog flashed in his mind as he saw each missile soar forward.

Thinking quickly, he swung his arms overhand, attempting to bat a missile or two away from him. He managed to knock one away, but before he could attempt a second underhand swing, another missile caught him square in the face, exploding on impact. His kept his grip on the sword, if only just, as he somersaulted backwards out of the sky from the impact, Balrog harmlessly flying over his falling body. Landing feet-first but his body limp, Quote's body bounced off the ground, doing another flip over his own feet before coming to a rest on his back. He was alive and conscious, but that explosion to the face did quite a number on his senses.

Curly, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity of the distraction and dashed towards the missile launcher Quote had dropped earlier, grabbing it and lifting it to her shoulders. She had no idea how to work the weapon, though: she stood straight up and she looked down the offline sight, the fingers on her right hand searching frantically for a button or a lever or something to push or pull or press to start firing. She was aiming in Balrog's general direction the whole time, trying to fire the stupid weapon at him before he could–

She found a button and pressed it. She didn't know and didn't care what button it was or what it did; she was panicked to find a way to fire the weapon before Balrog got close enough to hit her again. With the simple press, every missile the launcher had lit up and began to fire, one after the other, soaring in whatever direction she was facing. The thrusts from the weapon knocked her off-balance, quickly bringing her to her knees as she frantically tried to aim the weapon at Balrog. As she fell, so did her aim, causing several of the missiles to skim the ground and explode against the wall – missing the boulder as well. But she didn't miss a beat, and brought the missile launcher back up, carefully aiming at a very surprised Balrog with the remainder of its ammunition.

Balrog was lit up as every missile made a powerful connection, their warheads detonating against his already damaged frame. He was lifted further into the sky as the cushion of the explosions levitated him, before finally collapsing right back to the ground after the last missile made its mark on his face. He landed on his back, motionless, his feet still and his stubs limp. Quote slowly brought himself to his feet, still recoiling from his own hit, his hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword. He didn't see what had happened to Balrog; he just heard a lot of explosions, all one right after the other, before all sounds suddenly ceased.

Curly lowered the missile launcher, allowing its front end to lean into the ground. The weapon wasn't particularly heavy, especially since it no longer had any ammunition to it, but it was still heavier than any other weapon she had carried, and her arms gave out after trying to keep it steady. She kept her eye on Balrog's body, her left hand gripped on the butt of her Polar Star, ready to draw and start gunning him down again at a moments notice. However, aside from her laboured breathing and Quote roughly trying to pick himself off the ground, there wasn't a movement or a sound in the chamber.

She waited a moment before calling out to Balrog. They needed him alive, after all. "Balrog, are you alright?" It was an odd question to ask, considering that anyone else would have bitten the dust after taking such a barrage of missiles right to the face. It was impressive Quote was even still conscious.

"Oh, just peachy," he replied – his tone was unexpectedly chipper, as if he wasn't even wounded. Quote thought that maybe keeping up a sarcastic personality was worth the pain to him. "I actually feel better, you know, after being exploded in the face a dozen times after getting sword to the skull."

"Can you stand?"

Balrog waved his stubs and feet in response; neither pair could reach the ground. "Does it look like I can stand? I need…some help."

Quote had his arms poised, ready to continue hacking into Balrog with the sword, although Curly had some other ideas. She placed the missile launcher to the floor and walked casually up to Balrog. "Come on, Quote, put the sword away," she said gently. "Remember, we still need his help to get out of here." He had a feeling that she knew how he felt about Balrog, and that, in his tired and emotional state, he'd love to just gut the thing right there, but nonetheless, she was right. He placed the sword back into its sheath along his left thigh – feeling unfulfilled, since he wanted to practice his swordplay and only really got in one hit – and proceeded to the fallen briefcase with her.

"You take his left arm," she said, already walking around his rather large, blocky form towards his other side. "Hey, big guy," she said motherly when she reached his side, leaning over his bulky frame to look him in his giant eyes. She raised her left hand and extended two of her fingers as far away as she could from his face, hoping to get past his blind spot between his eyes. "How many fingers do you see?"

He took a moment to answer. "Three? No, two. Two fingers."

"Good enough," she replied as she bent over to grip onto something. Quote took his place next to Balrog, reaching down and grabbing onto his left stub. There wasn't anything to grip: it was a perfectly flat slate of some kind of odd, flexible metal. There were no joints or fingers or anything to grab a hold of. He just had to wrap his hands around it was well as he could. He could hear Curly 'umm' and 'err' on the other side, sharing his confusion, before finally coming to a decision on how she was to accomplish pulling Balrog to his feet. "You ready, Quote?" she asked, looking over Balrog's perfectly flat face to his; he nodded in response. "Okay, then. One, two…" Just like with the boulder, they both began pulling as hard as they could the moment Curly yelled 'three'.

Balrog's body lifted off the ground slowly as they heaved him up. Both the robots quickly reached for the gap between him and the ground to push him the rest of the way, when their hands just had too much difficulty gripping his stubs. With some more effort and a few heaves, they managed to push Balrog back onto his feet. His face was scorched from all the detonations, and the bandage over the stab wound from the storehouse was half-disintegrated – he appeared somewhat dazed, and his left eye was half-lidded and, peculiarly, bloodshot.

"Are you okay?" she asked again when he finally stopped rocking about on his feet. He certainly didn't look okay.

"I think so," he replied seriously, waving his arms and kicking his feet as he spoke. "Everything's working fine, and I can see and hear okay. And feel, unfortunately."

There was an awkward pause before Curly asked the obvious question. "Are you going to hold up your end of the deal? We beat you pretty solidly in a fair fight. Do you think you can help us move this boulder now?" Quote had walked over to the placed missile launcher and wrapped the strap back around his right shoulder. It felt almost paper-light compared to how heavy it was with all the missiles, and even then it was only mildly weighty.

"Yeah…" Balrog sighed, more out of exhaustion than anything. "You win. I'll move the rock for you." He turned towards the huge boulder plugged firmly into the wall, waving his stubs up and down as if to loosen them. "Being a bad guy is exhausting work. First I get worked over by some Mimiga with a sword, and then I'm down here getting exploded just a few hours later. I tell ya, if I could say 'no', I would."

"Oh yeah, by the way," Curly asked as she took her position to the right of the boulder. "Where did you get all those missiles from? You didn't have them when I fought you two in the Sand Zone."

"I swiped a design from some warehouse in the middle of the Labyrinth," Balrog replied simply. "I figured, in this shape, I could use whatever edge I could get. It looked pretty unfinished, though, so I had to adapt what I could to myself and hope for the best." Quote recalled one of the Guadi mentioning that he had been burgled of one of his inventions recently, but he wasn't about to raise an objection since they had only just finished fighting. And he was particularly ready to just leave this dumb Labyrinth. "If I had the time and some stuff I keep back in my room, I could have disassembled it and applied it perfectly, but my job here was pretty mish-mashed, so it wasn't as efficient as I would have liked it."

"Hey, you sound like you know what you're talking about. Is, um, 'personal modification' a hobby of yours or something?" She had hoped that finding some topic for them to talk about would be a good start towards repairing their uneven relationship, always eager to make a friend over fighting an enemy – although she couldn't see herself ever forgiving him and Misery for what had happened in the Sand Zone.

"It's more of a necessity than a hobby," he replied. It was odd to Quote, to hear Balrog speak so seriously about a legitimately interesting topic over his 'witty' one-liners and grandiose boasting. But, considering the alternatives, he decided that it was also refreshing as he took his place on the other side of the boulder, to Balrog's left. "I mean, look at me. I'm a giant robot shaped like a bar of soap with little picks for arms. What with how dangerous this island can get, I gotta find a way to keep up somehow.

"Now, guys," he continued as he placed his arms on the boulder. Quote had no idea how he was going to grip it. "Remember, don't tell _anyone_ that I helped you. The Doctor and Misery would melt me down for scrap if they found out."

"Your secret's safe with us," Curly replied happily.

"I'm serious," he continued, sounding very grim. "They would actually do that if they found out. So I'm trusting you two to keep a tight lip, okay?"

"You have our word, Balrog. Neither of us will say a thing about this to anyone."

"Well, as long as we're clear." All three of them were positioned next to the boulder, their grips firm as they readied themselves to try and move it once more.

"Ready?" Curly asked, readjusting her grip one final time. "_Push!_"

Quote and Curly began pushing the boulder to the side as hard as they could, their palms digging into the stone and their feet sliding over the dirt, just like last time. But suddenly, the boulder was simply picked up and tossed aside, thrown almost comically like a pebble against the opposite wall of the chamber when Balrog put his own muscle into it. It made a horrible crash as it collided with the floor and wall, the vibration sending shivers up the other two while the boulder rolled backward a bit before finally coming to a complete stop in the middle of the floor.

"You guys had trouble moving that?" Balrog mused, noting their stunned disposition and Curly's agape mouth. "I've been beaten to a pulp, and I still bench press things heavier than that each morning." Quote figured it was more likely how Balrog managed to fly just by flapping his arms that gave him so much power, but still, he wasn't at _all_ prepared to see that. Balrog made his way back to the other exit of the chamber, leading back into the Labyrinth.

"Where are you going, Balrog?" Curly asked. "The exit to the Labyrinth is this way."

"Yeah, I know," he said, stopping and turning to face them both. "But I have some maintenance to do first. My plan was to let you two go on ahead and take care of anything that might be a threat for me." Curly laughed as Balrog turned back towards the entrance to the chamber. "Now remember. Don't tell a soul that I helped you," he grumbled as he walked past them both.

"We won't!" Curly shouted cheerfully as Balrog left the chamber through the hole he made when he entered, and made another of his powerful leaps right out of sight. "You know, I don't think he's that bad of a guy." Quote turned to face her again, surprised to hear her say that. "I believe him when he says that he doesn't have a choice when it comes to what he can and can't do. I bet he's just a big softie without that leash he says he and Misery are tied to." Quote furrowed his brow; he wasn't totally convinced, and still believed that Balrog was who he was because that's who he was. "I know what he's done to me, and I can only guess what he's done to you, but c'mon Quote, if he were really that bad, he wouldn't have helped us move the boulder, right?" He had to concede that point, but he still had his reservations. "Well, we can talk about it some other time. For now, let's just get out of here."


	6. Chapter 6

The remainder of the Labyrinth was just as straightforward as the rest of it was, only there was vegetation all over the place compared to the rocky, sandy stretch of before, and the walls were a smooth red compared to the rocky and jagged brown from before. The area was as inhabited as the Sand Zone with fiercely territorial creatures, only they were accompanied by machines as well. There were small clusters of some kind of dark-blue insect lacing the ground in various areas; whenever they were approached by anything, they'd send out a small flock of like-appearing bugs to swarm the offender and drive them off. They learned to keep their distance from those colonies after Quote had a particularly difficult time trying to deal with one of them.

There was another type of creature – mostly spherical with a pitch-white body and a featureless face, containing only a set of kind, blue eyes. They always traveled in groups of six, with one of them being several times the size of the others and acting as a 'mother' for the others, which surrounded their alpha protectively. The mystical creatures floated gently in the air and never made an aggressive or sudden movement, as far as they could track; a pod of six would come across another, and they would pass each other by as if they hardly even noticed one another. Curly had taken a keen interest in them particularly: she considered their appearance and behaviour adorable.

Jarring them both was the sight of more Gaudi in this area of the Labyrinth – they both clearly recalled one of the earlier Gaudi saying that they never really had a desire to move the boulder and explore deeper into the Labyrinth, so it was surprising to see more of the giant cockroaches roaming the area. Even more surprising was when they reacted aggressively to the two explorers, biting and chomping and tackling whenever they could: the only visible difference between these Gaudi and the earlier Gaudi was how these Gaudi had an odd blue tinge to their skin, but something about them made them very unfriendly and inhospitable; total opposites of the creatures they were acquainted with earlier. It was almost painful to have to gun them all down.

Machines lined the uneven walkways of the advancing Labyrinth: only one type of machine, but there were plenty of them everywhere. A large fan with a single orb in its centre, with a light-blue casing on either side. They were still active, although they appeared dusty and corroded from time; this part of the Labyrinth was pleasantly cool from so many of them active all over the place. Quote theorized that they were left over from the war a decade ago, much like the X-shaped tank they fought earlier. Without the fans, the corridors might have gotten unbearably hot to work in, so they were installed while the soldiers moved in and made their way through. Although he doubted they expected them to keep running ten years later.

Most peculiar about the new area of the Labyrinth were eggs: dozens upon dozens of eggs lining the grounds and ceilings of the corridors, clustered into groups of only four or five at a time, but each egg being almost as big as the Gaudi. They were a gorgeous sky-blue with cloudy patterns on their shells, giving Quote his first real idea of what the sky might actually look like. The only thing large enough to possibly lay those kinds of eggs were the large, white 'ball' creatures that glided above them, but even then they didn't look like they procreated by laying eggs. They didn't take the inhumane approach to find out what was inside by prematurely breaking one open, either: Curly criticized the idea was 'disgusting' and 'barbaric', so Quote was left to his imagination.

They were both kept decently busy with the violent wildlife of this area of the Labyrinth; Quote took the opportunity to practice his skills with the sword some more: he knew he was a gunner before a melee fighter, and he would probably never get to King's level of expertise, but it was worth getting the hang of anyway, just in case he found himself without either of his alternative weapons. He was having an easier time getting used to its weight and swinging it around with more precision than when they fought Balrog after a while.

Curly was coming along quite well with her own gunplay: Quote offered to lend her the machine gun while he works with the sword, but she declined anyway, knowing that she'd have more control over the Polar Star and would be a greater help with it instead. She was jumping as high as he was, and her practice with her landings was coming very cleanly. Her aim with the Polar Star was more or less perfect, only missing the rare shot now, and she was running and weaving as quickly as he was. She admitted that the feelings were all vaguely familiar, as if she always knew how to fight the way she was, and had only forgotten it until recently.

Another thing this area of the Labyrinth had that no other area of the Labyrinth had was water. At first it was only the occasional puddle , rarely reaching up to their calves, but as they proceeded further into the maze, the water would appear more and more frequently and would continue to increase in depth, until it reached well over their heads, which they usually had to cross. They both found that they sunk like stones in the water; no matter how much either of them tried, they couldn't swing their arms or kick their legs hard enough to rise higher than a few feet in the ponds. Quote had a difficult time with the water – he couldn't stay under for more than a handful of seconds before feeling uncomfortable and feeling the need to get his head over the surface again. Curly had no such problem, though: she had some kind of device attached to the back of her neck that activated whenever it was wet. It caused a protective air bubble to envelop her body, allowing her to breathe under the surface of the water. He didn't quite understand the science behind it, but, she was perfectly fine staying under the water for far longer than he could, so he accepted that it worked.

At the end of the long, winding Labyrinth was another door, much like the wooden one leading into the chamber with the giant boulder. Quote was practically salivating at the idea of the end of the Labyrinth being just beyond the door, and wasted no time in replacing his sword and flinging it wide open, allowing himself into the next room, Curly close behind him. The room was very small – smaller than the chamber. The colours of the stone all over the room reminded him of the very first cavern he was in when he woke up: a pale blue with black walls, and no obvious source of light. There was another wooden door across from them, leading even farther in, but between the two doors was a tiger's head, maw agape with all of its finely-chiselled teeth all on display, welcoming anyone who would willingly walk down its throat. The head had a surprising amount of detail on it: the nose, the eyes, the ears, even the fur was taken into account as they were carved out of the stone. It was a perfect recreation of the face he had seen so long ago: everything about it was just as he had remembered it. It was almost eerie how similar the two were. The only difference between them was that the tiger's head here had a barred-off entrance, stopping them from proceeding down its throat.

"Are we still in the Labyrinth?" Curly asked, stepping in front of Quote, looking the room from floor to ceiling over and noting all the changes between this room and the corridor they were just in. The drastic change between the sceneries dizzied her for a moment. There was nothing living in this room, so she had holstered her Polar Star while she looked around the area.

She noted the two other exits to the room: the wooden door just across the room, and the tiger's head leading in a different direction in the far wall to her left. She walked up to its mouth, walking without difficulty past its teeth and a short distance into his open maw. She rattled the bars that blocked her passage, trying to find some way to open the path so they could continue. Quote stood behind her, wondering if she was gaining any headway, when she returned from the mouth, looking rather disappointed. "We can't get through here," she hummed despondently, already heading towards the opposite door. "We'll have to keep moving ahead."

He was interested in finding out what it was that was keeping the island afloat: he recalled a Gaudi telling him that the island's secret rested somewhere in the Labyrinth, and they must have been getting close to whatever it was, judging from the sudden change in the atmosphere. As he wondered what could it could have been – possibly a giant machine of some kind? Or, more likely, some kind of magical force that defied explanation? Was it an item he could lift and take with him? Was there no secret at all, and the mystery of the floating island would forever remain just that? Curly had left him alone in the room while he thought, leaving the door open for him to follow.

The following room was even smaller than the one they just left, although the far wall and lowered ceiling were clearly man-made: the far wall was solid steel, and the ceiling above them was grated, allowing them a view of what was above them. A small elevator was to their left, allowing one of them to rise to the upper level where a monitor was stationed; there were several wires and cords running all through the walls from different locations, with some of them hooking straight into the computer above them. In front of them was a steel shutter, shut air-tight, barring a simple giant red number one painted on it. The water was pooling around their ankles, and, to Quote's relief, was not rising.

Curly looked the shutter up and down, trying to find a way to keep moving forward. The shutter was thick and locked tight, not even allowing a breeze through. What could it be trying to keep out – or in? "Weird place, huh?" she asked over her shoulder when she heard Quote's footfalls slosh through the water below them. "I wonder if this was some sort of base or something. Do me a favour, will you, and go to that computer up there? See if there is some way to open this thing."

Quote nodded to her, seeing the elevator built for just one in the corner. It was a pretty simple design: a small square platform with a wench underneath it attached to a small series of pulleys that allowed it to raise and fall with the press of a button on its raised control panel, showing only an 'up' and 'down' button. He pressed the 'up' button, and, with some unsettling screeching noises as the rusted gears tried to bring themselves back to life; the crusted, mouldy ropes twirling and moving just behind him, the platform jolted forward as it finally broke from the ground, and rose slowly and unsteadily into the air.

A nerve-racking ten seconds had passed as he was brought above the grated ceiling above Curly. Just to his left was the monitor she was talking about; it listed several different commands, such as contacting someone (but it did not say who) and regulating the water level below them. The one he was interested in, though, was the command asking to open the shutter below them. Using the arrow keys to highlight that one specifically, he pressed the 'Y' key once, and below him, the shutter coughed and buzzed to life just as the elevator had. It lifted from the ground, revealing the sharp indent it had pressed into the ground from being locked so tightly to the floor for so many years. The caked, dead earth was instantly flooded with the little water on the floor.

Beyond that shutter was another one about five yards away; no larger or smaller, locked just as tightly, and adorned with a giant red two. "Hey, Quote, can you unlock the next one?" she asked loudly, to carry her voice all the way up to him. He looked down at her, watching her walk past the freshly-opened shutter and was waiting patiently in front of the next one. On his level, in the same direction, was another monitor. Unlike the first, it only had one command on it, asking if he wanted the shutter below opened. Again, he pressed its own 'Y' key, and the corresponding shutter below opened.

This continued for two more shutters, each marked three and four in giant red numbers. The fourth shutter seemed to catch on something just as it got to the top, but it was still more than enough for them both to squeeze through. The fifth shutter was twice as large as the other four, and was painted with a much larger, black five. Something was being kept just behind this last shutter, and whoever put them there was determined to keep it in there. "Just shutter after shutter," Curly bemused, knocking on the steel block like a door, as if she was expecting someone to answer. "All this security makes me wonder what's down here. It's exciting, don't you think? We could be onto something big, here. Bigger than big. It just makes me want to get past these shutters faster!"

Quote was following along above her, coming up to the fifth and final monitor: it was resting against a giant concrete block, sealing whatever was inside firmly from the outside. It asked the same thing as the other four monitors, although it came with the warning that the shutter will close again if it detects any seismic activity within its protected chamber. But there was a slip of paper resting next to its keyboard. Curious, Quote picked it up, looking it over. It had three, powerful little words written in clear pencil lead on its backside: _don't do it._

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Curly yelled, looking up. Quote had hesitated when he read that slip of paper, giving him a very clear suggestion on whether or not he should press that one little key. All the security wouldn't have been constructed for nothing, after all. Maybe the Gaudi that told him the rumour wasn't telling him everything he needed to know. "Are you okay up there?" Curly asked, sounding a bit nervous. "Is everything alright?"

Quote knew the smartest thing to do would be to listen to whoever left the message and turn around, never to find out what was beyond that final shutter. Whoever this person was, he would have known what he was talking about. But there were no other options available for them to take: there was nothing particularly available to them between the security shutters and the column he saw Professor Booster fall down, and there was nothing between there and the warehouse. It would be a day's walk to get all the way back to the storehouse and all the way back here, and, with the Doctor in possession of those flowers, they couldn't spare that much time. He had no more missiles to use to blow up the grating in the tiger's throat to proceed down there, either. There really was no other clear option for them.

The shutter moaned as it began to lift its heavy self into its slot above it. A good foot or two of solid metal and concrete began to shunt into the ceiling, revealing to Curly the room it and the other four shutters were protecting, and, potentially, putting the whole island at risk over releasing whatever was kept inside. "Whoa," Curly gasped breathlessly as she beheld the enormous chamber the final shutter was sealing. "Quote, hurry and get down here! You gotta see this!"

Quote dashed all the way back to the first monitor and pushed the 'down' button on the small elevator. Having finally broken into its work again, the elevator ride was much smoother and quicker on the way down, and within moments, Quote had caught up to Curly in the giant room beyond the fifth shutter. The ceiling reached as high as he could see. The walls were an opaque black, offering no visible detail, so he couldn't tell if they were as rocky as the walls in Grasstown or plated metal or what. There were several raised platforms in the centre of the room, and the floor dipped down a story or two, revealing that half the room was actually flooded. Robots – much like themselves, but of all shapes and sizes and designs – were everywhere, many of them missing limbs or heads, and all of them dead and offline. Some of them were still grasping onto their weapons.

Off in the far distance of the dome-like room was an enormous…something. It had no precise shape to it; it was like a giant egg, half wedged into the far wall, covered in a thick, green moss. It had an opening on its one visible end, shaped like an obscene, toothless grin that lead further into its form, only revealing more featureless darkness. It was nearly as large as the room it was in, and surrounding it were five other designs just like it, only considerably smaller. It was totally dormant, and given the moss covering it, it was probably dormant for several years.

Curly had already shown herself into the room and was looking over the corpse of one of the fallen robots on top of one of the raised platforms in the centre of the room. "Look," she said in awe when Quote finally caught up to her. She was gently running her hands over the broken and rusted remains of the robot, as if they were simply injured rather than dead and just needed some fixing. "This is a soldier from the surface. Like us." Quote knelt down next to her, inspecting the robot himself. It looked nothing like either of them: it was extremely dark and gritty, and lacked any positive aesthetic to it, as if it never had a skin or shell. All of its teeth, although dulled and chipped, were clearly visible, and it had a thick neck and bony head; nothing like either of them. It _did_, however, have two receptors over where its ears would be, exactly like them.

"It's all banged up," she continued. He could see that. "There's a ton more like it all over the place, too. They're all over the floor and all over these platforms…what on Earth could have…?" She paused as she thought what could have possibly done something like this. "Not a Mimiga," she said, surprising him; he didn't know that she knew about the red flowers. "To do this much damage is beyond what a Mimiga is capable of, even in their frenzied state."

As if responding to her voice, the robot they were kneeling in front of slowly clicked and buzzed. A single spark flung from its skull as one of its eyes managed to light up in its socket. "Is it still alive?!" she asked excitedly. If it could speak, if only for a few seconds, they might be able to learn what had done this to an entire platoon of soldiers.

It made no visible movement, but they could clearly hear the mechanical gears and workings on its insides shift into life. Another spark from its skull, and a recording began to play from inside its head and out its unmoving mouth.

"My name is General Bracket," they heard a raspy, exhausted voice say through the low-quality recording. They could hear something like shouting in the background of the recording, along with gunshots and explosions, and an unsettling roaring noise from something they couldn't determine, "and these are my last instructions to anyone unlucky enough to find themselves in this pit of the Labyrinth. Team Nine is annihilated. We couldn't destroy the target before it totally overwhelmed us. Our bullets and rockets bounced off it like it they were nothing. Our current forces–" A loud explosion rocked the recording as Bracket was cut off, followed by more yells and curses from other soldiers in the background, followed by more gunshots. "Our current forces were insufficient. After only a few minutes, I ordered the shutters closed; I knew we weren't going to be able to stop this thing." Both of them watched the motionless robot and listened to its recording, horrifyingly gripped to its every last word and sound. "If you're listening to this," he continued as the roaring of whatever was in the recording grew louder and closer. His breathing was audibly quickening and his tone was becoming panicked. "Then get out! Close the shutter and retreat! _Retreat! Retr_–" Another loud, dull explosion filled the recording before it suddenly stopped, filling the giant room with a chilling silence.

The room began to shake terribly, as if the very walls around them were trying to collapse in and crush them. The water underneath the platforms began to roil and throw and the loose rocks from the ceiling began to jar and plummet, raining down on them both from all sides. A fierce vibration coursed through the floor, unbalancing them as the platform began to sway and creak, its legs beginning to protest underneath the sudden strain. Just as the last monitor promised, the final shutter immediately slammed closed, locking them into the air-tight dome.

"What's happening?!" Curly panicked, searching for something stable to grab onto. Quote was scanning the room as best he could, trying to find the source of all the commotion and damage.

A loud wail erupted through the air behind them both; a low, animalistic cry that reverberated their bones and rippled the water underneath them with the sheer bass in its voice. It sounded like the roar they heard in Bracket's recording, only considerably deeper and a little more muffled. They both turned away from the closed shutter to see what had caused the noise, and there floated the enormous egg-shaped moss-covered stone that was half-wedged into the wall. Its entire form was dislodged from the wall, revealing its behemoth mass, easily larger than Arthur's entire house all by itself. In its one grin-shaped opening were eyes: a dozen light-blue eyes that each individually moved and blinked, roaming all over the room in search of whatever awoke it. Its five look-alike miniature parts were all awake as well, each of them circling its larger counterpart protectively, much like the white creatures they had seen earlier in the Labyrinth. The smaller creatures only sported two individual eyes instead of the many the larger creature in the centre had.

It floated forward in the air, letting out another low howl as it continued to search for a target, or for a way out. Its huge body easily crippled the platforms and scaffoldings laced in front of it as it ran them down. As it moved away from its plug in the far wall, water came flooding into the room in a massive torrent, rising the water level drastically quickly until it was already up to the raised platform Quote and Curly were still recoiling on.

The beast continued to float forward until it caught a glimpse of the two robots picking themselves up on the platform just in front of it. Each of its eyes locked firmly onto their location as it let out another roar, and suddenly its five miniatures began to float into place; all five of them faced forward while the larger beast shut its opening, hiding its soft and vulnerable insides. All six of them neared closer, the water level rising.

"Move!" yelled Curly simply, launching herself at Quote and sending them both into the water below. They narrowly missed an odd projectile fired by one of the five smaller creatures that soared towards the platform, splashing harmlessly onto its old, spent flooring.

The air was knocked out of him when Curly tackled him, robbing him of valuable oxygen as they plummeted into the water below. An air bubble emerged around Curly the moment her head went under, protecting her from the harsh, cold water, but Quote was left scrambling for the nearest shore to pull himself back above the surface, which was quickly climbing out of his reach. Curly drew her Polar Star and began firing at the hardened underbelly of the enormous beast – although the weapon worked fine under water, each shot harmlessly bounced off its durable hide, not even nicking off any of the moss that grew on it. She continued firing: with the shutter closed behind them, their only hope was to fight this thing, well aware that Bracket had an entire team and he still failed.

One of the five smaller creatures submerged itself, pursuing them in the water. She quickly changed targets and began firing into the eyes of the creature; it got off its own one shot before forcing itself to close its eyes in recoil from the fiery pain. The weird projectile – perhaps some kind of fluid, or maybe a bone or something – glided through the water with impeccable accuracy. Thankfully for Curly, the thick water slowed the shot down considerably, giving her enough time to jump away. The air bubble managed to give her increased mobility in the water as well, easing her movements and reflexes.

Quote, meanwhile, pulled his machine gun from his shoulder as he jumped towards the shutter, which was the highest natural point in the room, and trying to jump back onto the platform above him to get above the water. But he missed his leap, the water being too heavy for him to reliably move through, and even if he had, the water had totally flooded the dome: there was no way he was going to be able to breach the surface anyway.

Concerned over his air supply but aware of the more immediate threat, he pulled his attention towards the beast, picking a spot on its approaching body and firing his unlimited clip into its hide. Like Curly, he had no luck; the shots barely managed to phase it. But its eyes were open and they were within his range, so he quickly changed him aim and fired into the opening in its side. Just as the first few shots connected, it made another roar – apparently unhindered by the water it was totally submerged in – and the five smaller beasts took a defensive formation, quickly responding to the offensive with their own.

Curly began to draw back, her aim always trained on at least one of the six creatures that had its eyes open. She pulled back to Quote, who was still firing at the larger one, although his aim was beginning to slip down as his vision wavered from having gone without air for longer than he was comfortable with. Two of the smaller creatures fired their own shots again, one for each. Curly saw hers coming and evaded it effortlessly; Quote saw his coming, but didn't have the energy to push through the water fast enough to evade it, and was hit on his right shoulder from the blast.

He put all his strength into lifting the machine gun again to resume fire, his oxygen-starved mind beginning to waver, when the room was suddenly drained of all its water. It lowered just as quickly as it had risen, and it continued to sink until it was shallower than before the beast had awakened through a drain located under the ridge that the shutter was on; apparently it only opened to drain the water when the pressure reached a certain level. Quote took several deep gulps of much-appreciated air, feeling his strength return to him and his eyes refocusing. Why did he even need oxygen? He was a robot. He could understand creatures like Mimiga and Gaudi needing it to live, but he couldn't immediately think of any good reason why he would feel any type of asphyxiation at all.

The eyes on the central beast were still open, though surrounded by the five smaller ones. Curly was below them, drawing their attention with her own onslaught, allowing Quote a sizeable opening to strike. The beast hovered just above the raised platform, and simply faced forward; perhaps it was too large to manoeuvre around like the little ones could, and that played well to his advantage. As quickly as his reflexes could, he leapt easily onto the raised platform and dashed straight for its eyes, his machine gun firing all the while, and it responding with more wails and yells. Taking a chance, he made another leap, aiming straight for its opening. Just as he left the ground again, he dropped the machine gun while simultaneously reaching for the sword with his right hand; he lifted his feet to land on the lower rim of its opening, and made an outward slash straight from the sword's sheath the moment he was in range, across each of its wide-open eyes.

It made an impressive bellow as the blade drew across its eyes; the sheer volume shook his vision and caused more rocks to dislodge from various parts of the surrounding walls and from his proximity, it cost him his hearing for a short while. The beast moved and swung all around violently in an attempt to shake him off; with no grip or precise footing, Quote slipped off the beast's eyelid and plummeted to the hard ground below, his sword gripped tightly in his left hand. Curly was just below him and saw the very bold attack, and ceased her fire on the beast long enough to jump up and meet him halfway, catching him firmly in her open arms.

They both came back down with a hard crash; Curly was unused to the weight, and she hadn't been working on her landings very much anyway. They were both fine, though: she placed him back on his feet and they both immediately returned to attacking the creature, Quote putting his sword back into its scabbard. It was still roaring and trashing about from the hit, and the five smaller creatures were hovering around it in confusion, trying to decide whether to defend or attack.

They both dashed back to the platform to take advantage of the chaos – Quote was basically unarmed anyway without his machine gun and no missiles, and his machine gun had fallen on top of the stand. Curly was keeping her eyes and aim on the beast, working the trigger on the Polar Star for all it was worth, scoring a few decent hits on some of the smaller ones but not managing to get a clear shot on the larger one. They both leapt onto the high stage, under fire from some of the smaller ones that had the sense to attack.

Just as Quote was within arm's reach of his machine gun, the larger beast let out another roar – Quote's hearing hadn't totally returned yet, so he didn't really mind the noise, but with the roar came a powerful gust of wind generated from its hollering maw, lifting them both clear off their feet and flinging them to the opposite wall. Both of them hit the steel shutter with their backs, but they were both fine, if a little stunned. The machine gun was thrown from the wind with them as well; Quote managed to get it back into his hands before it slipped back down to the bottom floor.

Just as he positioned himself to begin firing again, the room began to fill with the water once more. It quickly sank the room up to the platform again, but seemingly stopped there for the moment instead of deluging the entire dome again. Thankful that only his feet where getting wet, Quote resumed fire right alongside Curly. The larger beast had closed its eyes again; they concentrated their fire on some of the smaller creatures that were still firing their own shots.

The two separated as they dodged some of the smaller shots, returning the fire seamlessly. Curly waded back into the water, the shots from the Polar Star breaching the surface and sailing right into the monster's eyes from the safety of under the surface. Quote instead took to dancing on the ridge just in front of the steel shutter: he wasn't too attached to the idea of going back into the liquid, and the monster was too close to the platform for him to risk using it. The offence from the smaller monsters weren't that difficult to avoid anyway, and he was having an easy enough time handling them from there.

The beast opened its eyes once more, and Quote quickly shifted his aim towards it again. He could see that Curly saw it as well, and she had adjusted her fire accordingly. Coincidentally, the water began to rise quickly once more, drowning them all for the second time faster than Quote realized as the level reached all the way to the very top of the room. The beast, undeterred, focused all of its eyes on Quote, straight ahead of it. For the first time, it launched its own shot among each of its smaller iterations; its shot was considerably larger and moved a good deal faster than the others, ripping through the water towards the smaller robot. Quote saw the shot coming clear enough this time and swam as quickly as he could to his right, in an effort to dodge the blast. He was successful – the attack hit the steel shutter full-force and caused a small explosion around it, sending him soaring through the water, surprised but otherwise unharmed. The steel shutter held fast: a large blast mark on it, but otherwise, there was hardly a chip missing from its incredible frame.

He couldn't tell which way was up for a moment as he was sent head-over-foot through the water from the blast, and he wound up landing on the floor of the room on his side. Pulling himself up to resume his fire, he saw that the beast had turned its attention towards Curly, who was still firing. Two of the smaller creatures kept their focus on him, sticking close to the centre creature but keeping their fire up on him all the same. He didn't have a clear shot on the larger beast, so he returned the fire on the smaller ones, lifting his machine gun to his shoulder through the heavy water and pulling the trigger.

The larger beast was firing several of its own volleys at Curly, each shot making a resounding explosion as they collided with the walls and floor. Curly was fine, though; the water slowed down its own shots excellently, and thanks to her device, she was having little trouble moving through the water herself and was making for an extremely difficult target to hit. For every shot the beast fired, she would return with a dozen of her own, and while not all of them were making direct hits, they were wearing it down.

Four of the smaller creatures kept up the pressure on Curly, while the larger one, realizing that she was too nimble to hit, changed its own aim towards Quote. The moment it showed its 'face' to him, he kept up the fire, scoring hit after hit with his own weapon into its eyes; it returned the fire, shooting twice in his direction. He managed to dodge the first fine enough, getting thrown through the water just like last time, but the second hit a little closer: it was no direct hit, but the shock from the blast knocked the wind out of him and in the water, he needed all the oxygen he could save. He inhaled reflexively, gulping a mouthful of water straight into his system.

He could feel the water beginning to drain back through the grate below the shutter, and he realized that he only needed to hang on for a few seconds more before he could breathe again. His hands still gripped tightly to his machine gun, he raised the weapon back up to resume firing, getting off several shots before one of the smaller creatures managed to get him in the legs. Another unintentional inhale, and suddenly the surface of the water could not lower itself fast enough.

He crawled through the water, dragging himself across the craggy ground with his left hand while keeping up the fire with his right. The aim from the smaller beasts were unspectacular, managing to miss him by a fairly large margin, but one of them just needed to get a little lucky. To say nothing of the larger one, which didn't need to be very accurate to rip him to shreds. Within seconds, Curly was at his side, intent on providing cover but instead just focusing all of beasts' firepower on one spot. They both kept fighting, pulling their triggers ceaselessly, their nerves wracked as shots were landing all around them. Quote kicked his legs, feeling the pain coarse through his body as he did. He tried to signal to Curly to run somewhere else, to divert its fire again, but her back was to him, keeping her arms up and her locked into place as she kept firing.

Just as his vision began to darken, the water level finally receded low enough for him to stick his head above the surface and take in several, very necessary deep breaths of air. He coughed awkwardly several times, heaving up the water he had swallowed, feeling it run back through his mouth and spill back into the lake.

He looked up to see that the larger beast was beginning to fire again. His legs were still working, but it caused him too much pain to try and pick himself up to start running. Curly remained stoutly by his side as she kept up her attacks, but if she didn't get out of the way, she'd be easily caught in the blast too. He didn't know what to do. He wearily raised his machine gun again with only his right hand, and tried firing into the beast one last time, his aim unsteady and his arm aching with each shot fired. Only a few shots met their mark; everything else either hit its sturdy shell, or missed its body entirely.

It fired its shot, the enormous blast erupting from its open space and roaring through the air towards its two targets. Curly realized her error now, but it was far too little too late. The moment the blast was fired, she turned around, kneeling down over Quote's body, and braced herself for the impact, shielding his body with her own. They both closed their eyes, waiting for their explosion.

They heard the blast burst midair, and could feel the shock of the explosion ripple their clothes and hair, but…they were otherwise fine. They heard the familiar roar of the beast erupt and languish through the air, as if it were in pain. They both opened their eyes – Curly turned around and Quote looked up to see the beast again: it seemed unhurt, but between them and the beast was Misery, hovering in place with her wooden rod extended just in front of her, glowing an odd off-blue. Her dark blue hair and green shirt fluttered from the breath of the beast's holler, and she was 'standing' upright.

"Did she just save us?" Curly asked to Quote, too surprised to believe it. She really thought that they were about to bite the dust that time. He was just as astounded as she was, and didn't have any answers off the top of his head. "Did you just save us?" she yelled towards Misery.

Misery looked over her shoulder, her staff held in place. She was concentrating hard in keeping the beast, and each of its five smaller children, frozen, and her expression was maddened and twisted to reflect that. "Tch," she snapped, turning back towards the beast, not answering Curly's question. Quote guessed that she didn't intend to save them at all, and she just happened to melt directly into the path of the beast's projectile. Lucky for them, either way.

"Those kids better be safe!" Curly yelled, suddenly very indignant towards Misery. She sounded madder than Quote had ever heard her, but he couldn't see her face from his angle. "If I find out you've done anything to hurt those kids, I swear, I'll–"

"Oh, shut up!" Misery yelled back, her focus still on keeping the beasts in place. "Who do you think you are? You're no mother! You're no parent! You're just a robot! A dumb, blonde robot!" Quote suddenly felt very vulnerable, lying underneath a very scorned Curly with a pistol. He wasn't sure if he'd rather keep fighting the beast instead. "You don't even know what this is, do you?" Misery kept goading. Curly offered no response. "This is what I hate about robots," she said to herself before raising her voice once more. "This is the heart of the island! The lifeblood of the land! The core of the apple! If you kill it, the island will fall to the earth. Is that your plan? Your grand scheme? Or did you just come into this room and started shooting the first thing you saw? You're imbeciles! You're fools!"

Melting into sight just above the beast was another; Quote didn't recognize him at first, but he recognized the white coat that went to his ankles; those glasses that glinted in the light; that poor disposition; that dark complexion; and that gaudy blue helmet with the red jewel he wore. It took him a moment to realize it, but the Doctor was right there, hovering just a little way away. In range of his machine gun, too! He began to thrust and squirm under Curly, managing to shake her off as he began putting all his strength into standing up. He ignored the pain in his legs as he pulled himself to his feet, standing tall as he prepped his machine gun.

"Misery, what are you doing?!" the Doctor yelled, sounding perturbed, but his giddy grin said that he was very excited about being so close to his goals. "Bring the Core to the laboratory at once! There's still time; it can still be salvaged!"

Quote steadied his aim, eyeing the Doctor down the sights of his machine gun. The Doctor hovered in place, making his shot easier. His legs wavered in pain, taking his total concentration from stopping the man before there could be more scenarios like the storehouse, but with steely determination he kept the human-like monster in his eyes and pulled the trigger.

The glow around the wooden rod in her hands intensified as she began a low, menacing growl which turned into a loud, powerful yell. A blinding flash emanated from first the rod, then her entire body, and then the beasts' bodies, filling the room with a stunning white light that caused both Quote and Curly to shield their eyes in response. He didn't see the first shot land on the Doctor, and with the flash, his aim was quickly brought down to the ground. He didn't know if he managed to get him, but as soon as he could open his eyes again…

When the dizzying murkiness left their eyes from the flash and they could see again, they were both alone. None of the six beasts were there; Misery was gone; and, worst of all for him, he didn't know if he even managed to hit the Doctor. The room was as silent as when they first entered it, and just as dormant.

Before they could come up with some other plan of action, or even a way out of the room, the water level rose drastically fast. At first the level was only a few feet deep at its farthest, but before they had a chance to run, it had already risen back up to the raised platform in the centre of the room. Quote took another deep breath just as his head submerged; the room sunk into the water at a frantic pace, and, having nearly drowned three times in this room alone already, the sight of the water hitting the ceiling yet again caused him to panic. He had a feeling that even if the gutter drained the water, the intake would be too much and it wouldn't be able to keep up.

Clipping the machine gun back to his shoulder as quickly as he could through the thick fluid, he turned back to the steel shutter: their only way in or out. Curly was right behind him as they ran back to the heavy, thick door, to help figure out a way to open it.

Pulling himself up to the ridge, his first instinct was to pound on the door with his fists. Maybe there would be some mechanism or protocol in its systems that would recognize that a person inside needed to get out; especially since there were no longer any 'seismic activity' within the dome, and the beast was even gone to boot. So, he hoped that there would be something, like some sensor or camera or _something_, which would realize that and let them out.

Curly was to his right, looking for a button or a lever or something that could open the door from the inside. She wasn't quite as panicked as he was, since she was relatively dry in her bubble and she hadn't had to worry about air ever since the water first rose over their heads. And she couldn't really sympathize with him anyway: they were robots. They shouldn't need oxygen to live, right? She mostly only wore her device for the increased mobility, believing stoutly that air was unnecessary.

Quote was growing more and more desperate with each pound on the door. "Quote," Curly called, her voice garbled as the sound travelled through the water, but it was still legible enough to him. "Why are you so upset? Let's just think this thing through, and we'll find a way to open the shutter. There's gotta be a way." Quote turned to face her, his eyes running wildly across her face in a blind panic, as he motioned to his mouth with his right hand. A flurry of bubbles escaped his face as he opened his mouth, in an effort to tell Curly that he needed to breathe. "Well, I figured it was over air," she said calmly, not understanding his urgency, "but we're robots, right? We don't actually need to breathe to function. We should be okay, just as long as we don't over-exert ourselves."

Quote shook his head in vehement disagreement, turning back to the shutter. He dropped to his knees and thrust his hands into the soil below the shutter, digging through the dirt and pushing away the rocks and pebbles in a rushed fervour. "Quote?" Curly asked, growing worried over his actions. Was she wrong? Did robots need to breathe to function? She had been making the breathing motions when she woke up, mimicking the young Mimiga that she fostered to seem more tangible. She noticed that he 'breathed' as well whenever he needed to move quickly, like the fight they were in just now. She remembered a contest her four kids had, where they challenged each other to hold their breath for as long as they could, and she won in a landslide – going for hours without taking a single puff of air. She doubted he had done something similar, but surely he must have realized that he didn't _need_ to do it, right?

He backed away from the door when he noticed that trying to dig his way out was pointless: the steel wall continued underneath the dirt, going down for who knows how far. _Robots don't need to breath_, Curly told him, and he chanted that sentence over and over again in his mind. _We should be okay. We don't actually need to breathe._ Then why did he feel such a basic need to get to oxygen as quickly as he could? Why did he feel like he was drowning if he had no lungs to fill with water?

He unclipped the machine gun from his shoulder and, aiming from the hip, he pointed the barrel of the gun at the shutter and pulled the trigger at point blank range. Curly jumped away in surprise as the sudden volley of shots rang from his weapon and into the door; each small beam of light that shot from the gun hit the shutter with all the force they could manage as he stood there and just held the trigger down. He really hoped it would work, temporarily forgetting that if it were that simple, the beast probably wouldn't have still been locked in here.

His vision began to waver as he stood there, largely unmoving as the gun fired and fired into the wall. "Quote!" Curly yelled to him, hoping that her voice would carry over the 'fweets' of the gun and through the water well enough for him to hear her. If he did, he didn't acknowledge her; he kept gunning down the immoveable wall with the last of his air, desperate to burst through.

His vision clouded considerably, and his head was feeling light while his throat felt tight. His aim was constantly wavering left and right as he continued to unload his clip into the door, until the machine gun began to click instead of fire – while the clip was limitless, the gun was still either overheated or too waterlogged to continue firing. He didn't notice, though; he stood still, his arms still waving left and right as if he were still shooting. His eyes looked far-off, like he wasn't all there, not even registering that his outburst hadn't so much as left a singe on the door. Without another thought, he collapsed forward onto the dirt, his body giving out and his mind blanking. He dropped the machine gun, each of his limbs going limp as he fell. He didn't hear Curly call out to him one final time before the world disappeared to him.

* * *

He awoke to the feeling of his own breathing. He was face-down in the dirt, his chest heaving slowly and calmly with each inhale and exhale. His eyes were heavy and his mind was fuzzy; the memories from the past hour or so were broken, only recalling bits and pieces at a time. He remembered walking through the Labyrinth with Curly, and fighting Balrog, and coming across some fortified base at the end of the journey. But after that, things became unclear.

He slowly brought his hands up to his sides, and his knees underneath his body. His chest felt very heavy, and his throat was very scratchy and sore. His legs were cramped, as if he had been doing a lot of running and jumping before he fell unconscious. Just where was he, and what was he doing?

He lifted his head, trying to survey the area he was in. He was lying in front of a steel blast door that was opened just a little over halfway; more than enough to walk under. His vision was very blurry, but not because his eyes were unfocused: he was underwater. The water, while decently clean, caused his line of sight to blur after only a short distance. He remembered something about the water causing him to panic, but…what for? And why could he breathe so easily?

He looked to his side, and there, also lying face-down in the dirt, was Curly; her long, wavy blonde hair was floating up and away from her head in the water. She was facing away from him, and she wasn't moving. The Polar Star he had traded her was holstered soundly in her belt down her right thigh.

The moment he realized her situation, he took a look around the room – a giant dome, reaching several stories straight up, with a raised platform in the centre of the room. Other robots were strewn all over the floor, deactivated and looking rusted from years of inactivity and water corrosion. There was an enormous hole in the side of the far wall, as if it was housing something until only recently.

It only took him a moment before he remembered the fight with that enormous, mossy beast and its five smaller children. He remembered Misery saving the day, if unintentionally, and the Doctor appearing, that smug, satisfied look written all across his face. He remembered panicking from the sensation of drowning and pounding on the door with all his strength to get it to open before he blacked out.

He felt along the back of his neck, wondering if Curly did what he thought she did. He felt a small device latched onto his metallic skin, humming away silently as it powered his pocket of air surrounding him. She really did give him her breathing device when he was unconscious. She really did give her life for his. How long was he out? How long has _she _been out?

He reached out towards her, grabbing her left arm and slowly turning her over. Her eyes were closed and she still hadn't moved an inch since he woke up…but underneath her eyelids, he could see that her eyes were still moving frantically back and forth, as if she were having a dream. She was still alive! If he could be resuscitated after being under the water for so long, maybe, if he moved quickly, she could be saved as well. He had to at least try.

He looked around the room frantically, looking for something he could use to perhaps secure her to himself with, or at least tow her so he had both his hands free. Among all the rusted remains of the robots, there wasn't a whole lot of any particular interest at all. Scrap metal, stones and pebbles everywhere, some cut wood and iron making the scaffolding…

Among his looking, he found an old, mouldy rope wrapped around one of the scrapped robot's outstretched arms just a short walk from where they were. Picking up and carrying Curly piggyback-style, he moved in closer to examine it: there was a good deal of algae and mould and moss growing on it, but it was rather lengthy, and it was the best thing the room had to offer in terms of any kind of rope or tool to use to help him move Curly. It had a metal hook on one end, and a clasp on the other. It might not be that strong, but it was the best thing he was probably going to get.

He unwrapped the rope from the robot (it seemed more like it was caught on the arm than secured), and, setting down Curly briefly, carefully cleaned the rope of any excess algae before wrapping it around his waist and across both his shoulders, then doing the same to Curly's torso. Strapping her back onto his body, back-to-back like he was carrying a knapsack, he clipped the metal hook and clasp together across his chest. She thankfully weighed less than he expected – or he had just gotten stronger from lugging around so many weapons for so long, but either way, she didn't feel too terribly cumbersome. Gently bounding on his feet slightly to test the strength and buoyancy of the rope, he headed back towards the steel shutter, satisfied that the rope will do the job long enough.

The walk back to the room with the tiger's head was thankfully uneventful, with each of the five steel shutters still wide open for him to walk through. The door leading back into the Labyrinth was closed, and despite his strength and his efforts, the door wouldn't open again. It wasn't locked, but the differences in pressure between the room he was in and the room he was trying to enter were too much for him to muscle through. Perhaps for the best, considering there wasn't any place for him to walk back to except for more and more Labyrinth.

He was going to head back into the dome room to look for another way out, when he peeked down the throat of the tiger's head. The iron bars that impeded their way last time were gone, seemingly ripped straight from their posts from the sudden onrush of water: their rusted bases, on the ground and the ceiling, were still there, showing jagged edges of metal as if they were torn straight off. This direction was as good as any; he walked down the tiger's mouth to see where it would take him. He idly wondered about the gunsmith he found when he first awoke, and feeling a little guilty about taking the Polar Star from his shack.

The water quickly began to pick up, and he was being pulled down a set of rapids before he had a chance to stop and take it slowly. He kept himself upright as best as he could – less for himself and more for Curly – with his hands digging into the narrow walls on either side and his feet getting pulled planted in the dirty mud, slowing his movement. There was very little light, forcing him to feel his way along the walls whenever there was a bend or a drop in the waterway's arteries. A short slide down a steep drop in the footing, and he knew there was no way he could return to the fortified base if he needed to. Undaunted but just hoping for _something_ to be on the other end of the path, he pressed on.

Aside from constantly having to keep his balance and his pace steady really doing a number on his stamina, he was progressing fairly smoothly down the tunnel. The odd water currents would occasionally confuse him and mess with his sense of direction, especially since he couldn't see, but there was only one way to go, at least. After what felt like hours (to his arms), he came across a small, sheltered plateau in the waterway. On it there was another door, and an artificial light-source beaming from its one glass window. Just who could build a home in the middle of a waterway like this? Was this more doing from his predecessors in the war a decade ago? Well, he wasn't going to ask questions: with some effort, he managed to pull himself up onto the plateau, bringing them both out of the cold water. He could really use the break.

Turning the old brass knob and pushing on the rotted door revealed the year's old cabin in the hollowed out wall. From the looks of thing, it hadn't seen a visitor since the day the war ended: cobwebs everywhere; old wooden panels were old and rotting away, creaking and splintering menacingly under his footsteps…it was in a pretty sorry state, but he was impressed that the bed and the bookshelves – still stocked from top to bottom with books of all kinds – were still standing upright. The quilts on the bed were even set.

There was a computer in the corner of the cabin, the light from the monitor giving the artificial glow that he saw shining through the window on the outside. There was some text on it, but it wasn't important to him right at the moment. When he saw the bed, his first thought was to take a rest, and let his weary limbs relax. He hadn't really had a chance to slow down since the warehouse in the Labyrinth, and that seemed like so long ago. He carefully untied Curly from his back and laying her down on the left side of the bed first, and, coiling the tow rope around the bedpost, he took the right side, allowing himself to relax for a moment.

He couldn't fall asleep – he wasn't especially surprised – but when he pulled himself out of the soaking wet bed just an hour later, he felt in tip-top condition, like he had slept days. Another perk of being a 'combat android', he guessed. The bed's frame and the mattress's springs managed to shoulder their combined weight, even after years of degradation. Curly, however, hadn't made a single movement since he set her down: not so much as a twitch of the finger, but her eyes were still moving under her eyelids. He clung to his hope that she was still alive, and that she could be brought back safely, but he didn't have a lot to base his claims on so far.

He wasn't quite ready to leave the cabin just yet. The glow of the monitor finally managed to hold his attention, its text still displayed prominently in the centre of its screen. It was just a single line of letters, but it couldn't hurt to at least read it. _You know_, it read, as if it were talking to him directly, _I often recorded what I learned in that notebook…_ A notebook? He glanced over his shoulder, at the bookcase standing on the other side of the single room. It would be an obvious place to put a book, but a more pressing question would be why he should care. That line of text could be ten years old, for all her knew.

He looked back at the screen, half-expecting the words to be different. They weren't, so he decided to humour himself and at least take a look. He might find something useful or at least entertaining; Heaven knows he could use a laugh after everything that's happened to him in this cave.

He rifled through the shelf, running his fingers over the various spines of the books, reading their titles and deciding whether or not they might be of interest. It was mostly non-fiction: a few documentaries and encyclopaedias, along with specialized books on various things like the plant-life on the surface on the Earth, and another on the animal-life on the floating island. One small book managed to catch his eye, wedged inconspicuously between two larger books on human health and hygiene. It had a ringed spine, like a notebook. Pulling it off the shelf and dusting off its cover, it had the simple title _Research Recordings_ written in plain pencil across its top. This must be the book the computer wanted him to find.

He opened the book to the first page – a table of contents, amusingly. He flipped through some of the pages, keeping his finger just behind the cover as a kind of bookmark, and noting that each page was numbered. Whoever wrote this book was very tidy. He looked over the possible topics: there were entire sections devoted to Mimiga; the Gaudi; the Core of the island; the war from a decade ago, and so forth. That last one had a particularly interesting subtopic, though, regarding the combat androids that had been developed on the surface. Suddenly reminded of his lack of definitive identity, he decided to give it a read.

Flipping to the listed page, he was surprised to find extremely detailed drawings and diagrams of the inner workings of the common combat android. Each gear and sensor was listed by number among several drawings taking up several pages, giving him an extremely thorough explanation of his own body. Most of it just flew over his head, though, using too many big words for him to follow along when he tried.

A few pages into the subsection, and he found about half a page explaining to him the combat android's functions while submerged in the water. Suddenly he was _very_ interested in this notebook. There might be a way to fix Curly in here!

'Surface-developed robots have limitations on their operation underwater,' it read. So far, so easy to understand, compared to the rest of the book. 'If they are submerged for too long a period, their system automatically shuts down to avoid a short-circuit.' Well! That revelation hit him like a hammer: it explained why he needed to get to air despite not even needing to breathe. He didn't know if it was a string of programming code that gave him that basic survival instinct, or if he developed it himself, but either way, it explained why the idea of drowning was so serious to him. 'The following pages will contain instructions on the proper method of caring for a flooded robot.'

He flipped the page, and on both pages, there were more extremely detailed drawings of combat androids. One for a male model, and one for a female; there were more differences than he thought. He skipped the male instructions and read the female ones instead, keeping his eyes glued to the diagram as he read along. The first few instructions were fairly straightforward: check for movement under the eyelids, and leave the body out of the water for at least forty-five minutes to see if the damage is slight enough to repair itself before doing anything drastic. He read on, looking for the actual instructions on how to drain Curly. It seemed complicated, but the instructions were detailed enough for him to understand and follow along…

As he kept reading, his expression grew more and more surprised and nauseated with each passing sentence. The fourth- and third-instructions-to-last were the most risqué. He had to do _what_? To her _what_?! And the water came out of _where_?! He raised his eyes from the notebook, looking Curly's body over, trying to steel himself for what was about to be necessary. He wasn't sure if he would even trust these instructions if he had to do the procedure to _himself_. 'When the water has been dried via the aforementioned procedures,' the notebook continued after the necessary steps, 'the system will automatically begin the rebooting process.'

He looked back at Curly, the instructions on how to drain her of the water playing over and over in his mind. He blinked hard, feeling sympathetic towards himself as he walked towards her, the notebook still in hand so he could follow along with the steps as he went. This was going to be very messy.

* * *

The procedure was fairly short, lasting only about ten minutes as he drained Curly. He followed the notebook's instructions down to the letter, and it seemed to be telling the truth: by the time he was done, there was water _everywhere_. The bed, the floor, and worst of all _himself_ were all drenched in it. Immediately after he was done and Curly was busy 'rebooting' herself, he left the cabin in a hurry to vigorously wash his hands in the stream passing just outside the door. Even after his hands were spotless, he just couldn't wash the dirt off them.

Resigning from the stream in the waterway, he sulked back into the cabin to see if Curly was awake yet, and that he didn't do what he did for nothing. Sure enough, Curly was wide awake, sitting up on the bed, looking a little tired but otherwise just fine. She looked befuddled at first, but when she saw Quote standing at the door, she was suddenly elated.

"You're alive!" she yelled ecstatically. Quote was just as relieved and shared the sentiment; the moment he realized she was fine, he forgot all about the procedure he had just went through, and practically leapt onto the bed to embrace her. A little queasiness was a small price to pay to see Curly okay. She returned the hug in full. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay," she said softly as they held each other. "That was a real spook back in the Core room. I almost didn't think we were going to make it." They pulled away from each other, so she could speak to him eye-to-eye. "Once you fell unconscious, I couldn't think of anything else that might work…I'm just glad my air tank worked liked I had hoped."

Quote shuffled himself off the bed, to give her more room. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Quote," she said sadly. "We were in a tight spot, and I knew you'd have a better shot at stopping the Doctor than me. I figured, it would have been better for everyone if you went on ahead instead. You've seen how I use a gun, after all." They sat for a moment, just enjoying the fact that they were both alive and well in this dusty old cabin in the middle of nowhere.

"Um," she said meekly, reaching down to the foot of the bed and pulling up the notebook. Quote kept it by his side as he went over the instructions, to make sure he didn't screw it up. "I read the instructions in this book. On how to drain a robot of water." He turned away, suddenly very guilty and unable to look her in the eye. "Yeah, I wouldn't be able to look at you either if I were in your shoes," she said, feeling hot in her cheeks. "But thanks." He continued to evade her stare.

Without another word, she fell back, her eyes shut. He became worried for a moment – what if something had gone wrong? Was she 'short-circuiting'? He picked up the notebook again, quickly skipping to the end of the procedure to see if this was normal. 'The reboot process normally takes some time to complete,' it read. 'If the subject regains consciousness for a moment before resuming the process, this is normal behaviour and you should not attempt to repeat the procedure.' Well, that was a relief, at least. She was going to be fine.

He looked out the only window in the cabin, towards the waterway just a few steps from the door. They had to keep moving, he knew. The Doctor had the red flowers, and now he has that 'Core' to work with. They couldn't spend a lot of time idling – he had already wasted an hour recovering himself. He didn't want to push Curly too hard, especially in her condition, but every second counted.

He picked up the tow rope from the bedpost and proceeded to gently tie Curly to his back, exactly as he had before. It was really bearing down on his conscience to keep her moving – the least he could do, after saving his own life so selflessly, was to let her keep sleeping. But knowing her, she'd say something to the effect of _Oh, I'm a tough girl. I'll be fine! Let's go show that Doctor whose boss! _And while he agreed that she was strong, he was worried he was still pushing them both too hard.

When he was finished securing her in place and clipping the rope back onto itself across his chest, he left the cabin and slowly dropped them both back into the running water. The device on his neck quickly hummed to life, enveloping them both in a protective air bubble that sealed them both from the water. Going back under the surface of the cold, clear water, he restarted trekking down the tunnel of water, unsure of his final destination.

The tunnels continued down further into the island, their general behaviour no different than when he first began. Very little light to go by, with constant bends and drops in their movements. They were still narrow enough for him to plant his arms and legs in firmly, allowing him to slowly navigate his way down the chute. Curly hang limp on his back, but would occasionally give an affirming wriggle or movement in her sleep to tell him that she was fine.

As he continued down, the walls began to get mossier, and the ground under him slippery; only once so far had he lost his footing, but he was able to balance himself before the force of the tide took him away. He was worried over the inevitable steep drop in the path, or when the walls grew too far apart for him to grasp, and they both would be sent down the torrent without a hope. As if being taunted, the walls seemingly disappeared from his grip after a particularly sharp turn, and his boots were lifted straight off the ground as they both began to tumble and crash down the heavy rapids.

Quote grasped onto the clasp of the tow rope with his left hand, bent on keeping the hooks together and Curly strapped to his back as they both somersaulted and pirouetted down the tunnels. With his right, he reached out blindly and wildly, grasping at nothing in an attempt to slow their extreme descent down the water. He would slap and punch the walls, floor and ceiling in an attempt to grab onto something solid, but the odd time he did manage to wrap his fingers around something, it would immediately give the moment he tried to resist the flow with it.

Each time the tunnel took a turn, he'd try to predict the direction and sharpness from how the water sped up and moved around him, so he could take the brunt of the hit against the wall, protecting Curly with his body. An easy left, and he'd feel along the wall with his stomach painfully as they rounded the soft corner; a hard right, and he'd turn himself so he'd hit the wall with his left side, badly bruising his arm in the process, but protecting Curly well enough. He found himself upside-down for a sudden dip in the slide, however, and he harshly hit his head against the floor from the buoyancy. He blacked out before he could even register the hit, their bodies ravaged ceaselessly against the rough walls of the tunnel before the clasp on the rope finally came undone.


	7. Chapter 7

When he finally came to, he was on the resting on a dirty shore, unaware of just where he was for the moment. He was laying face down, both palms grasping fistfuls of the rich soil, his lower body still soaking lazily in the water. He groaned as he tried lifting his head from the dirt, his head absolutely throbbing in the back and his eyes itchy and saturated with dirt and sand. His whole body ached from the experience: his arms were bruised; his ankles were twisted; his fingers and toes each felt broken.

Slowly pulling himself up from his prone position – he'd been knocked out or otherwise fallen unconscious far too many times in this cave already – he slowly lifted his head against his stiff, sore neck, attempt to catch a glimpse of his whereabouts and see what new surprise the island had in store for him _now_. The rock he was kneeling on was a familiar, welcoming off-yellow, with the occasional healthy patch of green grass dotting the ground in places. The far walls were an easy, sturdy blue, and the room he found himself in was considerably small, filled with a distilled pond of water. There was a marked opening in the centre of the open ceiling, where a small trickle of water fell.

He pulled himself out of the water, each of his limbs being markedly uncooperative. Once his ankles got onto dry land, he pushed himself onto his back, sitting up to get a better perspective of the room. His stomach cramped with the action, but the room he was in was immediately recognizable as the reservoir in Mimiga village. The Mimiga that gave him the silver locket was sitting in his exact position when he first met him. The Labyrinth ended right on top of the village.

Taking no solace in the fact that he was back in the closest he could call to 'home' in this place, his thoughts quickly drew to Curly and her safety. He looked around the shore; her body hadn't washed up with him. He pulled himself to his feet, as painful as it was, and looked around the room, standing as tall as he could. Still no sight of her; in desperation, he jogged back into the water, the device on his neck quickly activating once his head went under. Maybe she had landed in the water and just sank there? He'd brave the embarrassment of having to drain her body of water a hundred times over if it just meant she'd be safe, but, to his admonishment, she wasn't in the reservoir. She could still be in the waterway above him, cycling around ceaselessly in the rapids for all he knew. She could also be on the other side of the entire island, wherever that was.

He cursed to himself as he pulled himself back out of the water. He felt responsible for Curly, and he felt an attachment to her that he didn't feel with Toroko or King or Sue or Kazuma. The burden of not knowing where she was and if she was safe was crushing to him, but it was all the more reason to continue scouring the island. And if he happened to run into the Doctor while he looked for her, well, that'd be one less lose end.

He took inventory before heading back out into the village. All of his clothes, including his trusty hat and scarf, were still dutifully on his head and around his neck. Each of his weapons – his machine gun, his empty missile launcher, and King's sword – were all there and accounted for. The guns weren't waterlogged at all, and the sword didn't seem the least bit rusted, miraculously. The silver locket was still wrapped tightly around his belt, and Jenka's small jar of red goo was still tucked securely into his pants pocket. While Curly hadn't washed onto the shore like he had hoped, the tow rope that was used to secure her to him was lying in knots just a short ways away; he picked it up and wrapped it around his waist several times, clipping back onto itself like a second belt. He seemed to have everything all accounted for.

He walked back out of the reservoir and onto the ledge overlooking the entire village. There was a giant spire of stone jutting straight out of the ground, reaching up for several stories with at least one visible alcove for shelter etched into its side. Off in the distance was a large building sitting precariously on an unsupported ridge, nearly exactly opposite from him. Under that building was another; Toroko once hid in that building desperately, to avoid being captured by King. Sitting on top of the stone spire in the centre of the village was the iron cage that Sue was detained in, still untouched. Directly underneath him was Arthur's two-story house, the largest of them all, sitting safely on the solid ground. Straight above him was another, tiny ledge with a door; he fell out of that door once. He plummeted right on top of King and Toroko.

It all seemed so long ago. He had gone through so many trials since he found himself here, with nothing on him but his Polar Star and the clothes he woke up with. He remembered King standing next to him on this very ledge, looking out over the village after Toroko had just pushed him over in a mad attempt to escape. _If you hurt her, I'll break you. Just so we're clear._ He still remembered that command, clear as crystal.

He walked all through the village, easily clearing the wide gaps between platforms suspended high in the sky, across ridges jutting out of the walls, his aching muscles and joints slowly breaking back into the action. He remembered having difficulty climbing these things and tumbling over himself whenever he tried to land from a jump; and now he was scaling the spire and vaulting the obstacles with only half a thought. He looked all through the village, searching for anyone still remaining. King said that he was the 'number one' in a village of six. Well, seven, counting Sue, but King didn't like to, since she was an outsider. But out of even those seven, there was nobody. Nobody maintaining the farm on the upper corner of the caves; no fisherman in the reservoir; no 'number one' to lead the ghost town. The Doctor had taken them all away.

He ended his own tour with Arthur's house, where, in essence, everything had truly begun. The house was just as he had left it when he left for the Sand Zone, except there was no Kazuma tick-tacking away on the monitor's keyboard; there was no Sue or Professor Booster discussing how they were going to retreat from the island on the back of a winged dragon; and there was no plotting King, silently working out his own plan to rescue Toroko and burn the red flowers. The monitor and the teleporter it was linked to were totally untouched; the monitor was still displaying text, and the teleporter was still silently humming to itself idly.

He slowly walked through the hallway, eyeing over the blackboard with all the complicated drawings and mathematical equations that he only glossed over earlier. It still didn't make any sense to him. There wasn't much for him to do here, but he didn't know where else to go to. There was nothing waiting for him in Grasstown or in the Sand Zone or in the Egg – wait, the Egg Corridor? Kazuma and Sue might actually be there. One of the eggs was ready to hatch, after all.

As he approached the teleporter, it immediately began to buzz to life. Its many lights began to flash as the inside of the glass tube began to twirl and vibrate as a form began to assemble within it. He slowly drew his machine gun, unsure of what to expect but ready to fire with just a thought. He didn't know of any possible threat that might know how to use the teleporter, but he wasn't in the mood to think before acting right now.

Slowly from inside the teleporter, starting with the top of his white Mohawk, was Professor Booster. His stout figure, his long (for his body) white lab coat, and those rosy red glasses were all totally unmistakable, although now he was wearing an odd backpack-like device with a peculiar metal pedal secured to his right foot. He looked totally unharmed, as if he had only gone out for a walk instead of fall down a stone shaft several hundred feet high. Quote was immediately dumb-struck, and suddenly felt elation when he realized that he wasn't dreaming when Professor Booster stepped off the teleporter.

Professor Booster stepped forward, towards Quote, without saying anything. Quote put his machine gun back onto his shoulder, now realizing that the person coming through the teleporter was certainly not an enemy. They stared at each other for a moment: the Professor was totally unreadable behind his glasses. Quote couldn't begin to think just what this guy was thinking. He couldn't even sort out his own thoughts; Professor Booster really shouldn't be standing there, but there he was, looking fit as a fiddle.

"Only you, I see," the Professor said, ignoring Quote's goofily-happy expression at seeing him okay. "I'm just fine, and I appreciate your concern," he continued, seeing right through him. "I'm way too tough for a little fall to hurt me, you know. My safety was guaranteed the moment I rematerialized over something to land on. Not so much as a bruise on my hardened, chiselled body. In fact I started climbing back out only a minute after I landed." He smiled at Quote, who found himself grinning at the exaggeration. Professor Booster was dry-heaving after a walk back from Grasstown.

"But onto more serious matters," he pressed, his smile waning quickly, leaving Quote to try and figure out just _how_ he managed to survive the drop himself. "The Doctor has acquired the red flowers. All the island's Mimiga have been captured and taken to his Plantation high in the mountains of the island. So there's no way to avoid another tragedy; it's a sure thing now." He turned back towards the teleporter, staring off into space as he lamented their position. "I should have allowed Sue and Kazuma to escape when I had the chance." He removed the backpack and stepped out of the metal strap down his leg, walking up to Quote and silently handing the contraption to him. He looked confused as he accepted the device. "This is a jetpack, to put it in layman's terms: the Booster Version Two-Point-Oh. The product of many hours of hard research and development. Wear it, and it'll allow you to soar through the sky like an awkward, upright bird. Fuel won't be an issue as long as you wear it, but it _will_ overheat _very_ quickly, so you only have a few seconds of constant use in the air. Just put your foot through the pedal's cufflink and flex your foot in the direction you want to go: up or down, side to side, forward or back. Couldn't be easier." Quote looked uneasy as he accepted it. "You'll have a better use for it than this old man. I've done all I can for this island.

"Although," he continued as Quote removed both his machine gun and his missile launcher temporarily to make room for the jetpack's straps. His right foot fit a little snugly into the clasp for his leg, but the device had a pair of adjustable leather straps along it for just that sort of purpose. "Please heed my final request. If you see Sue again, I want you to take her and flee this island. Now that the Doctor has both the red flowers and the Mimiga, there is no chance of defeating him. Sue is Momorin's daughter, and she never wanted to come here in the first place. She hates the island, and she hates everyone and everything involved with it. But we couldn't just leave her all alone; her brother and her mother were all she had left. She doesn't deserve any of this. She doesn't deserve to be transformed into a Mimiga like she has. Please, just…take her and flee."

He knew from the beginning that he couldn't simply do that the moment he found Sue. He still had to find Curly; she hardly deserved to be on this rock either. And he couldn't simply run away from the Doctor, either, not after the stories he heard from the Gaudi and from Jenka, and not after he had seen what the flowers do to Mimiga with his own eyes. He had a mission ever since the storehouse in the Sand Zone, and he had to carry it out, to prevent anything like that from ever happening again.

Professor Booster was looking at the computer monitor linked to the teleporter, to see if Kazuma had left them a message, or a sign, or something. "There's a message for you here," he said, grabbing Quote's attention again. "It seems like Kazuma wants you to go to the Egg Corridor. I imagine he and Sue had hatched that egg they were talking about, but it doesn't say anything to that effect. I'll adjust the coordinates to the Egg Corridor for you." Professor Booster only stood as high as the keyboard, and he had a little bit of trouble seeing just what he was typing, but managed to get the teleporter to hum to life once again. "It's ready. You know how to work it from here, I assume."

Quote didn't need another invitation; with Professor Booster's leave, he pressed in a few confirming commands on the control panel just outside the teleporter, and allowed himself into the tall glass tube as its lights began to whir and vibrate into action. "Don't worry about me," Professor Booster said before Quote vanished. "I have my own plans for the future. You just get Sue and Kazuma out of here." And then, in an instant, he was gone.

* * *

He rematerialized in the familiar glass tube safe and sound, although the entire contraption was lying on its side, and the safety glass was cracked and broken all around its circumference. Quote quickly checked himself over once he realized that the machine was in a state of disrepair, just to be absolutely safe that his molecules came together in the proper order, and that he hadn't fused with his weapons or anything like that. No, everything was still where they should be, thankfully, and he wasn't missing any part of himself.

He looked around the Egg Corridor and realized that hardly anything was where they should have been: each of the sixteen eggs were either hatched or shattered from the weight of their destroyed cages, the dried draconic embryos having long since oozed out of their shells and across the ground. He felt like he was going to be sick when he saw the dead ones. The structural stability of the room was in shambles, with bits of rocks and debris strewn all over the floor and the ceiling, and nothing like the clean and orderly professionalism of the Corridor when he first arrived in it. The teleporter he was resting in was underneath a layer of solid stone itself, although thankfully he could still crawl out of the open door to the teleporter with ease.

Outside of the machine, he stood back on his feet, looking the room over some more from his higher perspective. He could see the steel door leading to the room with the egg marked zero-zero on the far side of the Corridor, but between it and him were at least eight winged baby dragons, each alive, but none of them healthy: they appeared bloody and torn, as if they were fighting recently, or they had otherwise gotten into a bloody skirmish. Some of them were even fighting each other, their teeth and claws digging into each other's scales ferociously, using only with their primal instincts as their weapons. They were likely fighting over food; whoever kept these eggs in their cages obviously hadn't thought of feeding the babies when they hatched.

But whatever had caused them all to hatch at the same time had also done a number on the Corridor itself, to cause so much collateral damage. He guessed that maybe an explosion had done this to the room, but he couldn't begin to guess what would have caused it, or why, or where in the Corridor it could have detonated. Or maybe the premature hatching of the eggs were the main purpose of the explosion. Hopefully Kazuma might have an answer – Quote began his steady jog towards the far room, marked zero-zero. He had no desire to fight the baby dragons: they each had teeth, however small, and claws half as large as his entire body. Some of them could even breathe fire.

It was a difficult walk, getting from one side to the other, because of all the unsafe debris littering the Corridor. There was no way he was going to climb any of them: none of them looked stable enough, and he couldn't jump over them entirely since he might be jumping right into more rocks, or worse, a dragon, and he didn't have any experience with the Booster to try and do anything fancy. So he had to walk around all the piles, and that was even harder because of the same dragons constantly roaming the floor. They would make painful wails and cries whenever they saw something moving, and one of them had taken to chewing the skin off its own tail for nourishment. They wouldn't be as analytical as the Gaudi and ignore him just because he was a robot. Whenever he was forced to get past one, he would walk slowly, and walk as far around it as he could. It was a difficult maze in the perfectly straight Corridor to navigate.

He managed to reach the metal door without firing a shot, although his nerves were tested with each step. He gripped the familiar metal knob on the door and gave it a firm pull, allowing him into the room for the second time.

The centrepiece of the room – the enormous egg with the words 'No. 00' tattooed onto its shell – was shattered open, and the dragon that was supposedly incubating healthily inside it was nowhere to be seen. Sixteen of the seventeen monitors that surrounded the egg were all flashing red, each saying the same thing: that the egg it was monitoring had been 'compromised' and that safety measures should be taken immediately, either to save the creature inside it, or, as a 'recommended recourse', to perform euthanasia as soon as whoever was supposed to be watching over these eggs could. It caused him to shudder.

The final monitor resting right in front of the large shell in the room was displaying a perfectly black screen with some friendly news in green font, for a change: _Hatch Successful_. He could see that, plain as day, although it also told him, in less words, that Kazuma was nearby, and that he had figured out the password to the egg's life support and got it to hatch. Had he already escaped the island on it, though? Was it even capable of flying, right out of the egg? He noticed that there was a large trap door etched into the side of the wall behind the egg, assumedly for the dragon to fit through.

A door opened in the far wall of the room though the darkness. He quickly turned away from the monitor and towards the far wall, where the lights didn't easily reach, and began reaching for his machine gun. He didn't yet make a move to use it, however. The corners were so pitch black that he had no idea how anyone could have found the door. A cold chill burst through it, and a faint light came flooding into the room from the opening. Howling wind was whipping into the room from the door, right behind the figure that came in through the doorway.

"Hello?" he heard a familiar voice call from the far shadow. "Who's there?" the voice called again. It was clearer the second time, and he had an easier time recognizing it, but it was always better to be safe than sorry and did not drop his hands from his weapon. He backed up slightly, his eyes trained hard on the opening but the lighting was too poor to make out a face. "Oh!" the voice said, clearly recognizing Quote right away. "It's you! The robot soldier that helped me out of that shelter in Grasstown!" The tall figure shut the door behind him and quickly allowed himself into the light – the tall stature; the tan complexion; the green hair; and the squinted eyes were all easily identifiable, and Quote relaxed when he finally registered that it was just Kazuma.

"I'm glad to see that you're still alright," he said happily, rubbing his arms to try and get some heat back into them. He was shivering from head to toe. "The wind-chill out there is pretty nasty," he said casually, trying to open with some light-hearted chatter, although it wasn't working well with Quote. "Right, business. I'm the only one here." His expression dropped suddenly as he relayed the events, having to live through those experiences a second time. "After you left for the Sand Zone, the rest of us hurried here, to crack open this egg and get us a way off this island. But then Misery showed up." Quote's own expression suddenly hardened – that woman was an enormous pain in the neck, going after everyone he cared about. "We put up as best a fight as we could, but we were just a girl-turned-Mimiga and two scientists; we hardly stood a chance. Sue was taken, and I have no idea where the Professor is…I managed to duck and hide in the confusion before she made me disappear too."

He paused for a moment, deducing to himself why Quote would be here now. "I suppose," he said slowly, walking himself through his scenario, "that the Doctor was able to obtain the seeds in the Sand Zone?" Quote nodded once, his shoulders slumping when he remembered that he had failed at his task. "Oh, no, no," Kazuma said lightly, trying to cheer him up. "I'm not blaming you. The Doctor's victory was assured the moment he got his hands on that Crown, really. By now, it's only a matter of time before his army of wild Mimiga is ready to storm the surface. After that, nobody's got a chance to stop him."

Kazuma walked back towards the door in the far all, his back to Quote. "We don't have a lot of options," he said resentfully. "We've got no choice but to flee. I figured we might be able to escape, if only we had a Sky Dragon. That's why we're here in the Egg Corridor, after all. And now," he continued, spinning back around to look at the broken remains on the egg shell, "my dragon has hatched. In case you didn't realize." The sarcastic statement was oddly devoid of any humour, and he paused before continuing. He was obviously thinking hard on something, as if he had to make a difficult decision.

"Would you like to escape with me?" he suddenly asked, shocking Quote a moment. Kazuma's face was totally solid: he was clearly very serious. "Hey, I know what I'm asking of us both; don't give me that look. I know that's my sister I'm leaving behind, and maybe even my own mom. But I know what I am and am not capable of; if Misery just swatted me aside like a fly, then what chance do I have against the Doctor? I'm a scientist specializing in computer sciences, man, I don't even know how to hold a missile launcher like yours." His expression looked more and more pained as he spoke, practically on the verge of tears. He could hardly believe he was just going to run away either. "So, I'm gonna ask again…do you want to run?"

Quote knew his answer was no, but he considered it from Kazuma's perspective anyway. If Quote were a human, he'd probably have been killed several times over by now, and only managed to get so far with as few injuries as he had because of his manufactured strength and endurance. He could jump straight up nearly a story, and land without so much as a second thought to it. Kazuma was made of flesh and bone; he was right to be worried over falls higher than a few metres and fighting frenzied Mimiga and witches that can turn other robots into enormous frogs. He couldn't blame him for wanting to run, but all the same, he shook his head to Kazuma, refusing to simply leave everybody behind like that.

"I see," he replied, not the least bit surprised. He turned back towards the egg shell, his mind lost in thought once again. "You know," he said slowly, "there's one other way one might return the Mimiga to their natural state. You could destroy the island's core." Quote remembered the fight with that beast in the flooding base in the Labyrinth. Misery called it 'the Core' of the island, and that it was the only thing that was keeping it floating in the sky. "If you did that, however, the island would most likely crumble and fall. A dangerous choice, huh?" Quote knew the consequences of his decisions, and Kazuma was _not_ helping.

"Either way, though, we don't even know where the island's core is. But if you're willing to risk it all and go after the core, and thereby go after the Doctor, then I'm willing to wait." He turned back towards the door, reaching for its handle. "I'll be here," he called over his shoulder, "tending to the Sky Dragon, and waiting for you to come back, or some kind of signal. But if things get too rough, I gotta fly without you." And he opened the door, walking out into the open air, leaving the door ajar for Quote to follow.

Just past the door was a never-ending expanse of dark-blue sky, reaching as far out as he could follow until the clouds joined with the sky above him in the horizon. He stood on a metal platform that reached out for three dozen yards, and below it, simply nothing – deep blue clouds blanketed the sky underneath the island, hiding the ground underneath them and not giving him a clear idea of just how far down the distance was between the island and the mainland. Even through the odd patches of missing cloud dotting the otherwise perfect cover, the ground underneath them was nowhere in sight.

Above him was a perfect vision of the unobstructed night sky. There wasn't a cloud above them – obviously – and he could easily see the thousands and thousands of brilliant stars shining down on him from above, illuminating him and the island in their eloquent light. The pale white moon hung lazily in the sky at a high angle above him, perfectly full, its solemn beauty enchanting him as he found himself staring dumbly at it in the sky. He had never seen anything like it.

Kazuma was off in the distance, speaking to an enormous, green, winged dragon that towered over them both. It looked much like the hurt infant dragons in the Egg Corridor, although its scales were a healthier, richer green, and it apparent complacent and docile compared to the feral ravenousness of the others. It sat there calmly; its head – easily larger than Kazuma's body – lowered to look the human in the eye and to hear Kazuma's naturally soft voice over the rushing winds. It made no movement other than the pulsating of its chest as it took its breath. Its wings, reaching a span farther than Quote could accurately guess, were folded neatly against its sides, and its four-foot-long tail laid peacefully against the steel ground, its very tip occasionally swaying left and right in content. It had a flattened snout and narrow yellow eyes, much like Kazuma's own, and a pair of dull, bony horns jutting up where its ears would have been. It had two incredibly large flat feet with small, hooked claws, and two smaller 'arms', each only a foot long and rather underdeveloped, though equipped with the same terrible claws as its brothers and sisters. It listened to Kazuma as he spoke, although Quote doubted the dragon could actually understand the words, and instead had simply imprinted onto Kazuma as a mother figure.

Kazuma turned away from the winged dragon and looked back at Quote, who couldn't help but keep stealing glances at the moon. "What's with you?" he asked over the roaring gusts of wind. It was difficult to walk in a straight line with the wind constantly pushing him to and fro. "You act like you've never seen the moon before." His breath was a little short from the lack of oxygen so high up, but he was fine. Quote looked into Kazuma's eyes, unable to put his feelings about the moon into words: this _was_ the first time he had seen it. His earliest memories were from when he woke up in the cave some time ago. In fact, this was the first time he really felt fresh wind and the first time he breathed clean, cold, crisp air.

"Anyway," he continued, his hands vigorously rubbing his arms to keep his heat, "directly above us is the Plantation. It's where me, Sue, Professor Booster and mom all worked for the Doctor before we managed to escape. I can guarantee that that's where he's keeping all the Mimiga." Quote looked straight up from where they were standing, and saw that the craggy, uneven wall of the island curved in a broad C-shape, ending with a small jutted ledge that seemed to lead into the island. This wall was several hundred stories tall, though. He had made tall climbs like this before, but this was ridiculous, and he could even see his destination this time. "The only teleporter that I know about that goes straight there connects directly to the Plantation's jail, and it's in that shelter you rescued me from in Grasstown. Besides, even if you blasted your way out, you'd be overwhelmed in minutes. The only real way into the Plantation is through its back door, which is right above us." Kazuma trailed his eyes along the wall as he looked up, noting all the footholds and armrests the soldier would have to use if he wanted to make the climb. "I'm afraid I don't know the coordinates for the Plantation, either, so the teleporter in the Mimiga village is useless. You'll have to start climbing."

Quote kept looking straight up the wall, daunted by the sheer size of it. He looked back down, through the gaps between the huge, sturdy platform they were standing on and the rock surface it was connected to, to the clouds passing obliviously underneath them. If he fell at all while he was climbing this thing, he wasn't positive if he'd ever stop falling. "Don't worry," Kazuma said, patting Quote on the soldier in an attempt to reassure him. "You have Professor Booster's jetpack on you. I've seen his earlier versions of it, and believe me, it works like a dream. I'm sure you can handle it."

He took another look up the enormous wall, his earlier resolve a little shaken from knowing that the slightest slip and he could find himself plummeting for hours, for all he could tell. And just to make sure he was nervous enough, another huge burst of wind washed over them both, briefly unbalancing Kazuma. "I have to get back inside," he said, defeated by the stinging cold of the high altitude. "I'll freeze out here if I stay any longer." He walked back to his winged dragon, the beast never taking its eyes off its 'mother', and instructing it to follow him back into the Egg Corridor to warm up.

He was understandably nervous about making the climb. As he stepped towards Kazuma and the dragon, he felt the tight leather straps grind against his leg, reminding him that he didn't need to rely only on his own power to climb it. He looked down his leg, noting the small metal 'pedal' his foot was clipped firmly to; Professor Booster said that he just needed to point his foot in the direction he wanted to go, and the jetpack would sling him in that direction? He uneasily shifted his right foot up a little bit, expecting the Booster to hum to life and to shoot fire down his back, propelling him into the sky effortlessly…but it didn't work, no matter how far he craned his foot. He rotated it from side to side, up and down, forward and back, just like Professor Booster said he could, but it wasn't operational. It wasn't like Professor Booster to give him something faulty.

As he began to flail his entire leg up and down – the metal brace easily flexing and rotating along with his leg with each movement – Kazuma was gently leading his winged dragon back into the room with the egg shell, his left hand on the bridge of its snout as he slowly walked ahead of it, to lead it. "It's not on," he said as he walked past, causing Quote to stop in his tracks. "I'll switch it on for you," and, with his other hand, he flipped a small metal switch on the side of the jetpack. Immediately, it began to whir and buzz to life, its circuits and gears working madly to warm the Booster up to working capacity, before calming back down and humming gently, awaiting a telltale twitch from the pedal.

Kazuma's dragon walked past him next, paying Quote absolutely no attention other than being careful not to step on him, and soon he was left alone on the metal platform. Now that the jetpack vibrated with activity on his back, he lifted his ankle upward once again, and this time, he got a response. It only lifted him slightly, corresponding to how high Quote lifted his foot, but he was eventually lifted right off the ground under just the jetpack's strength, the light sound of something like a fire stoking behind him flaring and rising with the pressure put onto the machine to perform. The tight straps wrapped over and under his shoulders were the only thing securing him to the Booster as he rose, much to his apprehension, but he was otherwise thrilled with the concept of flying with this device.

Taking it slowly, he pointed his foot up a little sharper, and the jetpack responded by lifting him straight up higher and faster. He slowly levelled his foot, and the Booster, rather than gently setting him back down, instead simply shut off, causing him to plummet back down the few feet he had risen. He managed to keep his balance; his mind raced and he felt panic in his chest when he landed, understanding just too well what would happen if he got too careless on this platform. He walked in towards the island, not entering the eggshell room but still under the shelter of the overhanging stone and overtop more secure footing to resume his practice.

He tilted his foot up again, gently easing himself into the air. Easy enough so far, but Professor Booster _did_ say he could move in any direction, so he tried tilting his foot to the right. Surprisingly, the Booster shifted its weight slightly in compliance and began carrying him to the right, still facing forward. He tilted it to the left, and he began floating to the left. He extended his entire leg forward slightly, and his body inched forward in the air, no problem. He bent his knee, bringing his foot back, and he began floating backward. He tilted his foot down, and he was sent flying forcefully back onto the platform, quickly knocking him onto his hands from the thrust. Aside from that last one (he'd have to be very careful with it), it was a thrill and a marvel; he would continue going in several directions numerous times, lost in the entertainment and nearly forgetting his priorities. Like Professor Booster said, the jetpack overheated awfully quickly the longer he stayed in the air, but the heat seemed to dissipate just as quickly; as long as he left it off for less than five seconds, by his count, it was ready to fire up again.

Finally having his fill of practice with the device, he stepped back onto the platform, feeling ready to conquer this mountain. Quote kept his eyes glued to the wall, noting each notch that he could wrap his hands and feet around, and all the tiny ledges and plateaus he could use to rest and recuperate. Just to his side was a larger ledge that he'd have no problem jumping to; he started with that, easily clearing the height and landing safely on the rock, preferring his own abilities over using the jetpack, just in case he panicked and wound up tilting his foot in the wrong direction. From there he leapt onto another, and then another, carefully timing his jumps between gusts of wind and aiming precisely just how high he needed to leap to clear the next edge.

Eventually the rock face became too steep to simply keep jumping up, and he was forced to begin climbing it the traditional way: hand and foot. The starlight and the moonlight showed him the way, making finding notches and footholds to grab onto an easy task. The gusting winds, the biting cold, the longevity of the climb, and the sheer fear of being so high and relatively unsupported made the climb much harder than he had anticipated, and with each pull and step, his numb fingers and tired arms and legs would waver and wobble. His jetpack would begin to flare whenever his right foot searched for something to grasp onto, pressing his nerves further. Each ledge broad enough for him to stand on without needing his hands for support was a blessing.

His mind wandered while he climbed the outer wall, to Curly and her safety, and to Sue and Professor Booster's request to run. He didn't know what he was going to do when he found Sue; there was no place left on the island for her to hide from the Doctor, but he couldn't just leave the island alone with him so close to his ambitions to world conquest. He could try and get her back down to Kazuma and his winged dragon and convince them to leave that way, but, after twenty minutes of climbing and he was only halfway up the wall (he was keeping track with the digital clock in his missile launcher's scope), there was no way he could take the same way back down. Climbing down by himself would be next to impossible, and Sue, in her unfamiliar Mimiga body, definitely wouldn't have the strength to pull it off either. Maybe he could find that teleporter Kazuma used to warp himself to Grasstown and start walking back.

He held himself still when the wind picked up, and moved as quickly as he could between bursts. With each small break area, he'd gaze out over the infinite sky, counting as many of the millions of stars as he could and gazing at the moon, admiring its pale grey and numbering its visible craters from his bald eye. The angelic silver moonlight reminded him of Curly; her skin was coloured the same white as the moon. But he shook off the thought as quickly as he brought it up, thinking to himself that the comparison was a little too absurd for his liking. The steel platform that he had left was a mere divot underneath him, and the clouds underneath that sprawled out as far as the sky, blending seamlessly into the horizon many miles away without ever offering the slightest of glimpses through their thick cover. It was almost romantic, like a dream, between his long hauls up the wall.

Getting near the peak, the tears in the rocky wall thinned as he climbed, forcing himself to pulse upwards in short hops with the Booster until finally, after over half an hour of just rock climbing, his right hand, and then his left, pulled over the final ledge of the wall, offering something sturdy and solid to stand on, far away from any fall, as his reward. With some effort, he managed to pull his tired and stretched legs over the side, and, relieved and triumphant, he lay on his stomach, basking in the accomplishment. His destination was in a small, hollowed out section of stone atop the high wall, and in the far side of the section was another unassuming wooden door with a brass knob. The feeling of seeing something so mundane after such a task was rather lifting to his spirits.

After only a short break, he pulled himself to his feet and entered the door, feeling invincible. He felt like he could run circles around whatever minions the Doctor had in the Plantation, and he kept his head high as he walked past the wooden frame, hearing the rusted hinges creak around him as he pushed on the–

"Whoa!" he heard to his left once he stepped into the room, startling him. He jumped in surprise as the noise, causing the jetpack to flare up, lifting him off the ground slowly while he quickly reached for his machine gun, but the Booster's sudden movement caused him to flinch again, sending him straight up when he meant to press downward. Before he could calm down, the jetpack slammed him into the low ceiling of the room, bruising his head badly but he kept his consciousness. His foot going limp and dazed from the sudden bonk on the head, he fell back down to the floor lopsidedly, landing on his left arm. His invincibility was totally gone now.

He groaned, placing his hands on the ground as he began to draw himself upward again, in considerably more pain than last time just a minute ago. He didn't know who or what had made that sudden noise, and he wasn't sure if he was in any immediate threat. He could hear panicked rumblings and digging through some boxes just a short distance away, like someone was trying to hide as quickly as possible, paying no heed to how much noise they were making.

Quote looked up, eyeing the room over. It was very small, almost like a closet, but it had two doors leading in and out; one of them was still open, going outside and onto the outer wall of the island. The second must have lead into the Plantation. Also in the room was a series of metal containers, exactly like the ones he had seen in the warehouse in the Labyrinth, complete with the crudely-drawn missiles plastered on their sides – that was a good sign; he hadn't had any missiles on his missile launcher since the fight with Balrog, and hopefully these containers were just as stocked. Hidden in between the containers was an obvious Mimiga, facing away from him and hiding its eyes behind his paws, as if that would somehow help it hide itself. It was shaking badly, apparently scared out of its wits.

Quote pulled himself to his feet, approaching the containers silently. The Mimiga's ears perked with each footstep, and before Quote could even get close, it whirled back around, its arms extended and its eyes practically tearing up already. "Please don't kill me!" it hollered, trying to somehow push Quote away by gesturing towards him in an exaggerated 'go away' manner. "I'm a human! I just got magically turned into a Mimiga! I'm a human!"

Ignoring the potentially hilarious defence of blaming magic for his form, he backed away from the containers, not wanting to scare or pressure the Mimiga, and gently lowered his hands, trying to signal to the Mimiga to calm down. His expression visibly changed to show that he was just as surprised as it was – he had the aching head to prove it. The Mimiga seemed to understand and calmed down a bit, but not enough to gather up the courage to come out of the container.

"You're not one of those killer robots?" it asked. Quote didn't know how to answer that one; he was equipped with at least three different weapons and he'd had his fair share of fighting during his short stay on this island. But he _did_ know that he meant the Mimiga no harm, this one included, so he nodded. "Well, you scared the pants off me, just bursting through the door like that!" Still apprehensive, it emerged from between the containers, its eyes glued sternly to Quote, noting the slightest movements he made. It had an elongated face with no snout, indeed looking more human than Mimiga. It had fair, brown eyes and a pair of thick, ugly eyebrows, unique only to this one Mimiga he had seen so far, and it wore a blue collar with no tag, as if it were someone's pet. It had two single whiskers pointing straight out from either side of his face, and its ears were quite a bit longer than King's or Sue's, going down to his collarbone. It had a small, bunny-like tail on its backside. Comparing this one Mimiga to every other one he had seen, he couldn't help but believe that he was once a human, and whoever turned him into this didn't seem to quite grasp what a Mimiga looked like.

"As long as we're getting acquainted," the Mimiga continued, obviously feeling more and more comfortable around him as time passed, even going so far as to offer Quote a paw to shake, "My name is Itoh. I was one of the humans who came to this island to do some research." Quote accepted the paw and they shook twice. "I'm sure you know the story about the Doctor, since you have Professor Booster's jetpack. Once he got that Crown of his, he had that witch Misery turn me into this…I managed to get away before I could get wrapped up in this whole business with the flowers, but look at me." He huffed in frustration, looking around the cramped room. "And now I'm stuck here! They haven't found me here yet, but I'm running low of provisions. I don't know how much longer I can stay."

Itoh took a breath, noting that the open door leading to the outside was still open. "You climbed up from the outside, right?" he asked as he went towards the door to shut it. The cold air drove right through his fur and chilled his skin, and the wind howled mercilessly through the open door. "I'm an engineer," he said, shutting the door tightly, and he sounded rather proud of the title. "One of the best in the business, I'd wager. But I'm deathly afraid of heights, myself. I don't know why I signed up for an expedition to a floating island tens of thousands of feet in the air."

Quote was listening, but rather than stand still, he had taken the opportunity to loot through the metal containers for their missiles while Itoh shut the door. Like he had hoped, the containers contained crates and boxes, and in them were dozens of missiles each. Enough for him to unload his arsenal several times over, although, being so close to the Doctor, he felt that he wasn't going to have to come to that. He was happily clicking in all the missiles he could carry – Mark Three missiles, too! What luck! – while Itoh kept talking. "I don't know what or who you're here for, but the Plantation will be the place to find it. I hear the Doctor managed to round up every last Mimiga on the island, and they're all here, working to the bone trying to grow his red flowers. Sue's in there somewhere, but I wouldn't know where."

As he placed in the last of his ammunition and hefted the launcher back across his left shoulder – the weapon felt considerably weightier than just a few minutes ago, and he liked knowing that he was fully stocked – he turned back towards the only other door leading out of the closet. "There's not much more I can do to help you," Itoh lamented. "I'm no action hero, myself. But if you need something built, you'll know where to find me. I have no plans to go anywhere." What with the only exits being into the Plantation and over a several-thousand-foot drop, Quote wasn't surprised. He waved to Itoh as he grasped the knob of the other door, and with a quick twist and a strong push, he was in the Plantation.


	8. Chapter 8

The area he was in was _huge_. It easily dwarfed the Mimiga Village and maybe even the Sand Zone, but the far walls did not eclipse into the horizon, so it was considerably smaller than the Labyrinth, thankfully. Above him was a second layer of earth, held in place by chains and platforms and scaffoldings, allowing for twice the amount of farming land available: he could see plant roots dangling underneath the clods of airborne dirt. In front of him was a sea of green grass and flower stems, brown, rich soil, and red petals: more budding red flowers than he could count sprawled in front of him, reaching into infinity as far as he could tell. Their otherwise beautiful appearance made him sick to his stomach, knowing just what those flowers were being raised for. He didn't know if the flowers needed to mature enough to bloom to be effective, or if they could be eaten at any stage to achieve their effect, but either way, his first plan upon seeing the sea was to burn it all.

The spot he stood on connected to the land directly across from via a rather shoddy and unprofessional bridge, but it also sloped downhill towards a large lake at the bottom of the room. The water looked crystal clear and healthy enough to drink from, much like the reservoir in the Mimiga Village–

Wait! The reservoir in the Mimiga Village connected directly to the Labyrinth's waterways, which was where he woke up after getting knocked out in the water. So, if he dared to hope, Curly could have washed up here, assuming this lake was also connected to the Labyrinth. Considering he was way up in the mountains of the island, he knew the chances of her actually being here were harshly slim, but he held onto his hope that she was here, waiting for him to find her. He immediately set out towards the mainland, his eyes peeled for any sign that Curly might be here somewhere.

Just as Kazuma and Itoh had told him, Mimiga absolutely littered the Plantation. There were dozens and dozens of them out in the grassy fields of the room and several dozen more farming away on the patches of earth suspended in the sky. They were each slaving away, ploughing the dirt between already blooming rows and placing seeds, while automatic sprinkle systems were placed in between lots of two-by-two, showering every patch of land with a steady stream of clean, clear water from the lake below, showering him as we walked past them and sometimes causing the device on his neck to flare awake. The Mimiga were all soaked through their clothes and their fur, but they didn't seem to mind the conditions or even the work itself; some of them were watering and placing the flower seeds with a kind of devoted tenderness, apparently unaware of what the flowers would do to them if one of them carelessly breathed too deeply or something.

Oddly, none of the Mimiga were willing to speak to him, or even look him in the eye when he tried to get their attention, although considering the reputation 'killer robots' had with the Mimiga, he wasn't too surprised, ultimately. There were also huge, man-shaped beasts supervising the grounds, as well: the definition in their muscles were pretty intimidating, and their stoic expressions and mannerisms gave him the chills, knowing that they were always watching. They had flat faces with perfectly white eyes, and their uniform was a tattered green sheet that covered their entire body below their necks. Their skin was a caramel-brown, and their postures were usually low, ready to pounce at any given moment. They were also fairly passive towards him as well; even equipped head-to-foot with all sorts of gadgets and weapons, they didn't seem to offer him more than a passing glance as they kept watch over the fields. He supposed he should have been thankful for that.

Halfway through the fields of red flowers and toiling Mimiga was a man-made ditch going straight down into the dirt, with some wooden boards making for stairs leading from the surface down into the well. At the bottom was a door placed into the dirt horizontally, with the hinges to the door drilled into another board of wood just to its left. Curious, he made his way down the steps, when the door flung open, and out came a pair of Mimiga, talking to themselves about their recent work and how they were doing such a good job harvesting the flowers and nurturing them to bloom. When they saw the robot, though, they immediately hushed themselves, saying nothing at all as they walked past him.

He allowed himself into the small underground room. There were a healthy amount of candles and torches lining the walls, clearly illuminating the many paths and halls of the bunker, and the entire place was alive-but-lazy with activity: there were several different Mimiga of all shapes and sizes roaming the rooms and halls, either speaking to themselves or sleeping in the plush, comfortable beds within each quarter. None of them spoke to him, however; they gave him odd looks and uneasy glances in his direction, but they generally just pretended like he wasn't even there.

Some of the Mimiga wore old, beaten and dirty clothes, but they looked quite content with their lot in life: the grass stains on their overalls and messy, dirty fur along their faces said that many of them were farmers, and the area they were in was just a rest area for them to relax their backs and legs before going back out to hoe the fields. Some were so old their fur was falling off in patches; some were so young they only stood up to his waist. Some were wider than the door he came through. But they all looked genuinely happy to be working for the Doctor in his fields and tending to his flowers. He wondered if they knew.

One of the Mimiga was different; he wasn't dirty or tired, and the clothes he wore weren't really meant for the strain of the fields. He didn't carry a shovel or spade or rake like he saw some of the others use above ground, and instead slung a long fishing pole, easily twice his little size, with a red-and-yellow bobber on the end of it. He didn't seem quite as excited to be working there as the others, and he was on his way back aboveground. Just as he walked past Quote, their eyes met for a moment, and the first thing he was going to do was brush him off, just like the others, before stopping just as they passed each other.

"Hey!" he called, grabbing onto Quote's left arm to get his attention. He turned to look at the Mimiga, somewhat relieved that someone was finally going to acknowledge him. The little Mimiga burned a hole through him with his stare, as if Quote were a puzzle and he was trying to solve it. "Have," he said slowly, his eyes squinting, "we met?" He was unsure himself: he had seen so many Mimiga that he was sure he'd have difficulty picking out Sue if she wasn't so short. But nonetheless, the fisherman Mimiga did have a point: something about him seemed vaguely familiar.

The fisherman kept looking him over, but just couldn't place Quote's face to any name. He was _sure_ they had met sometime, but it was going to bother him knowing that he just couldn't realize _where_. He finally sighed in defeat. "I guess I must be mistaken," he said, beginning to turn back away. "Sorry to bother–" Just as he began to turn away from Quote, his eyes managed to catch the glint of the silver fish-shaped locket attached to his belt, bouncing off his left hip. "Hey! That locket!" The Mimiga pointed to the silver locket, and Quote looked down. When he grasped what the Mimiga had realized, Quote instantly remembered the fisherman at the reservoir in Mimiga village – the Mimiga made the same connection that very moment. "You're that robot! That I met at the village!" His excited yammering drew the attention of the other Mimiga resting in the barracks, but they couldn't bring themselves to stop him from speaking; it would have meant possibly speaking to Quote as well.

"It's been a while, stranger," the fisherman continued, extending his paw for Quote to shake, which he had accepted kindly. "You're looking pretty decked out since last time I've seen you. A gun, a rocket launcher, a sword…not a bad set, man." His tone changed once he stopped appreciating Quote's weaponry. "How did you get here? I got zapped here by some witch named 'Misery'. Did she get you too?" Quote shook his head, but offered no other explanation; the fisherman likely didn't know about the outer wall, and he probably wouldn't have bought the story anyway.

The fisherman sighed, looking around the room. "You know, it's not that bad here. Fresh, clean air; lots of exercise; plenty of food to eat…" Quote was very interested in that last one. "Not the red flowers, though. The Doctor and the Drolls don't want us eating them until they're ready. He says they'll 'give us strength' or something to 'fight back' or whatever. But I hate farming. Too dull; it's just dig a hole and plant a seed, over and over again. Now _fishing_," he continued, showing Quote his fishing rod like it was a trophy, "that's where the excitement's at. Each catch is its own story, you know? A battle of wits and attrition between you and the prey! Who'll give in first? You? The fish? Your fishing rod?" Quote hummed: he was beginning to lose interest – the Mimiga made it sound very exciting, but he was busy already and didn't need and further distractions.

"You'll never know what'll show up!" he continued, very enthused by his own words. "Like, I caught that locket, yeah? And just a while after showing up here, I caught some key!" He opened up a small pouch that he had kept on his own belt – revealing to Quote all sorts of different lures and baits the Mimiga kept in there – and pulled out a small metal key with only two teeth. It appeared rusted, and the lettering etched on its stem, probably to tell what it was for, was too faded to read. "I have no idea what it might be for, and it's not fish, but I've been jamming this thing into every door and every chest I could find since I caught it. You never know; it might just unlock untold riches, or a way out of here.

"But the one thing that I got that's most exciting," the fisherman pressed, his eyes lighting up with every word, "was a robot. Just like yourself! But it was a girl robot, though. Blonde hair, wore a pink tank-top and a pair of really heavy-duty work pants like yours." Just as he had hoped, Curly had somehow found her way from the waterway under the Labyrinth and into the Plantation's reservoir. He gripped the fisherman's shoulders lightly, and opened his mouth to ask him to take him to her, but the Mimiga continued before he could. "I knew you'd start paying attention to me if I brought her up," he laughed. "Turn left at the end of this hall; she's being nursed back to health in the fourth room on the left. She's a little waterlogged, but she seems to be okay."

Quote nodded once thankfully, and didn't stick around to entertain the fisherman any further than that. "You're welcome!" he called, not the least bit peeved at Quote's rude urgency: he really looked worried over Curly's health the moment he brought her up. He was off like a shot, thumping noisily down the dirty halls in the direction the Mimiga had told him. At the end of the corridor, the path forked to his left and to his right; without missing a step, Quote turned hard to his left and kept running, counting the open frames in the walls as he ran past. Each room contained a bed, a desk, and a dresser, yet no door leading into them: some of them either had a Mimiga sleeping soundly or changing their clothes (the lack of privacy apparently wasn't an issue), but most had no Mimiga at all.

Just as the fisherman had promised, in the fourth room on his left, was a robot with long, blonde hair sitting quietly on the bed with her head down, and the Polar Star was clearly visible on the end of the bed. Standing next to her was a tall man in a green hooded robe; he couldn't really see a lot of details on the guy, other than the fact that he was a good head-and-shoulders taller than either himself or Curly. But who he was wasn't his concern: he immediately ran up to Curly's bed, sliding into a kneel in front of her to get a better look at her.

She seemed fairly unimpressed with Quote's quick movements, looking up only enough to see him in the eye. He smiled wide, happy to see that she was fine and that she wasn't 'flooded' like before. Her deep blue eyes looked kindly into his; neither of them said anything. He felt that there was nothing they needed to say. Before he could think to do it, he quickly brought himself up, wrapping his arms back around her into another tight embrace. Hopefully now, there won't be any more unexpected surprises, and they could keep going through this cave together without any more issues.

Peculiarly, she did not return the hug. In fact, she didn't even look that happy to see him; he was too busy wrapped up in his own relief to notice that she was only giving him a confused, unassuming look. After a moment of her not responding – at first, he thought it was because he had his weapons on both his sides, and she couldn't get her arms around them, but she wasn't even making an effort – he slowly loosened his grip to back away so he could see what was wrong. Was she actually hurt somehow? Had she flooded in the waterway, and she hadn't been rebooted yet? He would gladly go through the procedure again if it meant getting Curly back…provided the man in the robe left the room.

But she didn't display any of the earlier symptoms. Her eyes were wide open, and she was breathing normally. She looked at him, and her expression was changing as they looked each other over, so she was consciously aware of him. But she remained unmoving and unfeeling all the same, as if she wasn't entirely there. "Who…" she said softly, and Quote immediately brightened his demeanour, ready to hang on her every word. It was reward enough to hear that she was still alive and well enough to speak. "Who are you?"

Like a bullet to his chest, the delight from seeing her okay was immediately torn apart with three little words. She looked totally oblivious when she noticed his suddenly broken face. "Do we know each other?" she asked. Quote leaned back on his knees with his hands still holding onto her shoulders lovingly; she wasn't kidding. She curiously looked his body up and down, trying to figure out just who this boy was that suddenly came bursting into her room and started to embrace her like a lover. He was so happy to see her at first, so she knew they _must_ have some kind of history together – further emphasised how he looked so despaired when she didn't recognize him. He looked as though he was about to start crying; his eyes narrowed into pained crescents while his lips kept deftly still. His grip was loosening on her shoulders as well. "Hey, come on," she said, suddenly feeling a little guilty, "don't look at me like that. You're going to start making me feel bad, too."

He looked hard into her deep, forgiving eyes, hoping, even praying that somehow, if he just stayed there with her long enough, her memories about meeting in the Sand Zone and walking through the Labyrinth and fighting that beast in the core would come back to her. Curly was the second person on the island he felt that he could really trust, and he wound up killing King himself. There was no way he could simply rebuild or relay those experiences with her, so there wasn't any way she could feel the same way towards him. He was happy – he was ecstatic – that Curly Brace, the robot, was physically okay and would live to adopt many, many more Mimigas in her orphanage, but for all intents and purposes, Curly Brace, the friend, was dead.

His hands left her shoulders and softly trailed down her arms and ended in her hands. Her skin was cold, being a robot, but he could still feel the smoothness of her arms and the tenderness of her hands when he squeezed them. She squeezed back, but, by the look on her face, she was only entertaining him: she knew that it was a very emotive moment for him, and in a way, she hated being unable to reciprocate the feelings he was practically broadcasting to her. The guy was absolutely torn in half, and as much as she wanted to tell him that it was okay, the words would be too hollow for either of them to cling to: she couldn't even remember her own name, after all.

Still holding her hands gently in his, he pulled himself onto his feet. The weight of his weapons and the Booster on his back were as light as a feather compared to the weight on his emotions. Still looking into her apologetic eyes, he told her goodbye by letting go and turning his back to her, towards the way out of the room. In a cruel sense, this was something of a reprieve for his heavy, addled mind: now, at least, he had no further tasks, and he could focus entirely on stopping the Doctor.

The tall man in the hooded green robe had left the room and was standing just outside in the hallway. Quote couldn't see any feature on the man's face other than his lips, which looked human enough, although the visible skin on his chin and neck were textured oddly, almost reptilian. His stature was hunched, and its lips were curled upward in a condescending smirk. "Oho," it laughed darkly when Quote approached, revealing each of its horribly misshapen and improperly groomed teeth. He had a feeling that he knew this guy from somewhere. "How inspiring," it said slowly, seemingly spitting each of its words. "I've…seen many of the robots from the surface, but…you're the first that's really shown any…affection towards anyone or anything."

The man in the hooded green robe didn't look like any human Quote knew, and he wasn't in any mood to entertain anyone; he needed to focus only on his mission, if he didn't want to suddenly break down over losing Curly for good. He was about to walk past the man and back towards the exit when a large, deformed, scaly four-fingered hand stopped him. "Hey," it said, almost amused by Quote's brooding, "no need to be…rude. I'd just like to…talk with you about the girl. I have…interesting things to tell you. You won't be disappointed, I can…promise."

Quote looked down the hallway, towards some Mimiga that stopped what they were doing to watch the two interact. When they realized Quote knew they were watching, they quickly picked up their activities, trying to be nonchalant about being caught eavesdropping. To be frank, he'd like to go back to what he was doing as well; this guy in the hood wasn't giving him the greatest of vibes. "You're nervous," the man slithered, amused. "I…get that a lot. I'm not very…popular, among the Mimiga. But that's okay. Just listen." He wasn't sure if he should trust anything the man said, but if he wasn't considered an enemy by the Mimiga to the point where he was allowed to stay in their rest area, and if he hadn't hurt Curly, then maybe he might have something worth listening to.

"Good," the man said lowly, his ugly teeth lining his lips. "The poor girl was…found in the spring just outside. Doesn't even…remember who she is, although you…know as much by now." Quote wasn't amused by this person's dancing around what he was supposed to be interested in hearing. It was like the man was trying to get a reaction by reminding him of Curly's condition. "She's just a…piece of junk, I suppose. A robot that can't even remember what it's…programmed to do is just metal waiting to be…recycled."

_That_ certainly got a reaction: Quote immediately raised his left arm against the man, pushing him against the wall and pressing his forearm against where he assumed the man's neck to be in anger. It was the second time he felt rage on this island, after the incident in the Sand Zone's storehouse, but this time, his target was in arm's reach. He reached for the sword with his right, not really sure if he was willing to split the guy apart over just a few words, but he was obviously fishing for a response from Quote, and he was about to get it.

"She can be saved," the man sputtered, the creepy smile never once waning from his lips, although his breath was forced and ragged underneath Quote's force. He stopped – his hand was wrapped firmly around the handle of the blade, but he kept from drawing it. He loosened his grip on the man's throat. He knew he really shouldn't listen to the man any further, but he was desperate for any way to bring Curly back to him.

The man coughed roughly when he could, trying to get some air back into him. "Oho," he laughed darkly between hacking coughs, "such emotion. From a robot! You certainly are…unique. There is a…mushroom, I am told, that can bring back a person's…memories. Mimiga, human, Gaudi, and even…creatures like myself. There are stories, and there are…testimonies to the fact." Quote eased up, his undivided attention kept on the man. "Who knows? Maybe it'll…work on robots, too. But, these stories are from many…years ago. Centuries. I am unsure if the strain of mushrooms are…extinct, but it couldn't hurt to…know, could it?"

Quote eased his grip on the man's neck, although he was still firmly held in place, reminding him that he wasn't going to be going anywhere. A centuries-old strand of mushroom that could restore a creature's memories…he hadn't been on this island too long, so he wouldn't know too much about the plants of the island. His eyes trailed down as he thought about who he could talk to or where he might be able to find such a thing – even knowing that a robot might not even be physically capable of 'swallowing' anything, he was at his ropes end, and he'd be willing to try anything.

The first person he thought that might know something about it was Professor Booster. While he didn't exactly look hundreds of years old, he and his crew had been exploring and studying the island ever since they arrived here however long ago. He might have been able to get up some sort of information about something like that, although, considering the jetpack he made, it actually might not have been his field. That sounds more like something the Doctor would be interested in, and he wasn't about to go up and ask him.

Who else did he know that might have some kind of clue about ancient mushrooms? He scoured his mind, trying to think of names and faces that he might be able to ask for some information. He didn't know where Jack was; he knew exactly where King and Toroko were; Sue and Kazuma wouldn't know; Balrog might, but for all he knew he wasn't even on the island anymore; Misery might, except–

Thinking of Misery immediately reminded him of her mother Jenka, the old crone living with her puppy Hajime in the Sand Zone. She _did_ say herself that she was hundreds of years old, so she _must_ have heard about a medicine like – wait! She _made_ him some medicine! She even said she had churned mushrooms into the mix. He still had the bottle in his pants pocket!

He released his grip on the man with the hooded robe, who took some heaves through his sore neck, but seemed to be laughing through his whooping coughs all the same, amused and intrigued from Quote's abrasive behaviour. He dug into his right pants pocket, his nervously excited fingers digging through the cloth to find the small jar. Jenka said that it'd bring back anyone who ate it, be it human, Mimiga, or even robot; she didn't mention anything about memories, but it was still worth a shot. His fingers finally managed to find the small container, and, wrapping his hand protectively around it, he fought his fist against the pulling fabric of his pants until he managed to yank his hand free.

He brought his hand up to his face, opening his fingers and revealing the present Jenka had given him seemingly so long ago. It was a tiny thing made of glass with a bronze spigot on its top; it was awfully small for a jar but it was too big to really be called anything else. Its red, jelly-like contents sloshed around on the inside, slowly and thickly sliding side-to-side with each movement his hand made. It didn't look very appetizing. "Oho," the hooded man laughed when he laid his own eyes on the tiny jar, "that's very…interesting. May I?" He extended his left, scaly hand towards Quote's own, expecting him to entrust the medicine to the man. In response, he closed his hand and brought it back to his side. "Ohohoho!" it laughed heartily, his voice cackling down the halls, "I mean no harm, but…good choice anyway. I can tell, her welfare means very…much to you. I wouldn't risk it either, if I were in your…position."

The hooded man pushed past Quote and back into the room with Curly, with Quote hot on his heels. "My dear," the man said, and Curly immediately looked up; Quote guessed that she had felt more comfortable around the man than him, since he was probably the one looking after her since she woke up. "This gentleman here has some…medicine that we'd like you to take. We think it might…help you with your amnesia." Quote ran up to the foot of the bed, nearly tumbling over it himself in his anticipation with his hand extended to give her the jar.

She accepted the small jar from his hand, and looked it from top to bottom. She shook the viscous red liquid on the inside, noting the several solid chunks throughout it. "Are you sure?" she asked incredulously. "I want my memory back too, but you think a drink is going to fix it? And it doesn't look that healthy, either. Look at all the chunks of food floating in it."

The man laughed to himself again, understanding Curly's hesitation. "Most medicines don't look…appetizing, dear. Anything I make myself would…probably come out looking just as bad. Please, just…give it a try. It couldn't hurt, right?"

Curly hummed to herself as she looked the jar over again, defeated but still uncertain herself. "Yeah, I guess not." She placed her other hand on the top of the vial and pulled hard on the spigot; it came off cleanly with a thick 'pop' after some effort. She brought her nose to the open end and took a deep whiff. "I doesn't smell like anything."

"I'm not too surprised," the man responded, his own nose twitching at the _powerful_ scent wafting from the jar, his smile still as creepy as ever.

She turned to Quote. He was hopeful, and he was practically bouncing in anticipation; whoever he was, and for that matter whoever _she_ was, must have been very important to them both. He looked so hurt when he was forced to turn away from her when she said she didn't remember who he was, and while she didn't feel any sort of obligation towards him, she'd like to at least remember her own name. She looked back at the opening of the bottle, peering down its opening and into the liquid. "Well, bottoms up," she said with a smile, lifting the glass bottle to them both before swigging the entire contents all at once.

In only a moment, the entire medicine had flowed easily down Curly's gullet; she didn't make any swallowing motions as it simply drained down her throat. Quote was suddenly having some doubts over the concoction Jenka had given him – she said it would work on robots, but it defied all reason, really. For all he knew, the panacea was simply draining down her insides and the most it would accomplish on her would be oiling her gears. But he held onto the hope that Jenka wasn't as senile as she might be, and the hope that the medicine would even recover her memories, which Jenka didn't mention. The tension in the room, from both the anxious Quote and the intrigued man in the hood, was nearly palpable when she took the jar away from her lips and placed the cork back into it.

She eyeballed the vial some more, ignoring the few drops that she missed. "Doesn't taste like anything, either," she noted innocently.

"But that aside, dear…how do you feel?"

Curly looked over both her hands, their backs and their palms, as she considered her answer. "I don't really feel that different just yet," she stated. Quote's shoulders began to slump. "I guess I feel a little weird. From drinking it, I mean. I'm a robot, you know; I don't really think we're meant to eat or drink anything. Too much water can flood us, even: Quote and I, we had a little scare over drowning a little while ago." His eyes widened when she called him by name, and when she recalled the incident perfectly. She turned her eyes from the man to him, her grin going from ear to ear. "Sorry to scare you like that, Quote."

Before he could respond, she practically leapt at him this time, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. He flinched at first, but when she felt her arms squeeze protectively around him, he knew that she meant it this time, and that she really had come back to him. He returned the embrace, gripping her tightly behind her back. "Quote," she said, repeating his name several times softly as they shared their reunion, her voice shaky. The man in the green robe silently turned towards the opening and left the room, having enough decency to let them be for now. Not that either of them noticed. "I'm sorry," she said again, her earlier attitude totally replaced with a much more frightened one. "I didn't even know how close I was to losing myself, until you saved me just now. I remember that look you gave me just a few minutes ago; you looked…" She stuttered for a moment; she was clearly shaken to her core from the experience. "You looked so defeated. Like I had died, and you had to watch me go. I would…" She stopped, and did not start again, instead choosing to simply pull him tighter. He felt the same emotions she was feeling, but above all else, he felt victorious.

They enjoyed each other's comfort for a moment. While he certainly didn't mind the relief he felt while they embraced, this was the second time he'd nearly lost her; once was too many, and he hoped they wouldn't have to bear the stress and potential loss again. "You remember when I named you 'Quote'?" she asked, keeping her grip on him. He was too choked up to respond, so he nodded instead, knowing that she would feel the movement. "In the Sand Zone, remember? I said that you looked like a 'Quote' to me? That's because your name _is_ Quote. That medicine you gave me really had some kick to it. I remember everything! All the way back to the war a decade ago."

They disengaged as she leaned back into a more comfortable sitting position while he knelt on the edge of the bed, digging his knees into the dirt below. "You and I were…" she started, grinning as she recalled everything, happy that she could _finally_ remember it all after all this time. "We were…" she said again, her smile slowly waning as she remembered the leftovers of the war vividly. She remembered finding entire scorched villages and charred Mimiga bodies. She hated it, and she remembered hating it, too, and it reflected on her face as she recalled it. "Back then, a huge number of robots were sent to this island from countries on the Earth's surface. We had robots of all makes and models and versions, from every corner of the globe, all invade this place at once. We – you and I, too – were all after the awesome power kept within this island…the 'Demon Crown'." Quote remembered Balrog go on about how he can't fight against whoever wears such a crown back in the Labyrinth, and he recalled seeing the ugly blue helmet on the Doctor both times he had seen him.

"But you and I," she continued, smiling again and she placed a palm on Quote's left shoulder. "We were different from the others. The others were sent to find it, but we were sent to destroy it. When we got here, the island was a mess, and the war was well underway. We couldn't go an hour without seeing some robot destroy a house or cold-bloodedly kill a Mimiga." She closed her eyes as she recalled the event: walking across the surface of the island, having to watch innocent, docile Mimigas that hadn't eaten the red flowers get hunted down by the other robots. She even remembered meeting General Bracket and his platoon as they sliced open the throats of an entire family. Remembering the sights and the screams so vividly nearly caused her to wretch the medicine back up. "The robots had torn it all to pieces, and countless Mimigas had been slaughtered. It was…"

Quote reached forward, cupping her left cheek in his right hand. She opened her eyes; Quote was looking at her like she didn't need to tell him if she didn't want to. "No, you need to hear this," she said sternly, surprising him. "We've gone through so much on this island, and we couldn't even remember ourselves. You need to know who you were before you woke up." As painful as it looked for her to tell the story, she was right: his identity was a total blur ever since he woke up in that first cave so long ago. He had to admit, he was morbidly curious about his past self.

"Finally, after so much, one man had managed to get the Demon Crown in his possession. When the robots got what they came for, they stopped their genocide, and the entire island fell silent. But not us. Our objective was different. We pressed forward, towards the man who claimed the crown for himself, before he could begin a whole new tragedy. We were too late, though; by the time we had gotten to him, he managed to turn the Mimigas into killers, using just the crown, and he began his own assault back onto Earth.

"I tried to stop him," she said. She held onto Quote's hand as she continued. "You were there too, right next to me. We fought hard – tooth and nail – but he was hitting us with stuff I'd never seen before. It was as if he was manipulating the very ground we stood on with the powers of his crown." She stopped, her eyes shut tightly as she tried to remember what happened next. She sighed when she couldn't. "I don't remember anything after that. We must have lost the fight, although I'm pretty sure we managed to wound him. We were way too far out of our league, though; the guy walked all over us." She perked herself back up, looking at him excitedly. "Do you happen to remember anything?"

He shook his head no; none of it sounded familiar to him at all. If he had some more of that mushroom that Jenka used in her medicine, he might be able to recall some of it himself, although judging from Curly's pained look as she told him the story, he might actually be better off without his memories. "Ah, that's okay. I don't know why I expected you to remember anything. But, before I forget again…" She paused as she reached around her neck, gripping the string of her necklace as she pulled it over her head, through her messy blonde hair. On the end of the string was a small green block with a simple red dot right on its centre; it didn't look too particularly outstanding or important. It appeared to be made out of a thick metal, as well. "I remembered that I wanted to give this to you once we completed our mission. Just…as a gift, is all. I've had it since longer than I can remember, and I can remember a _way_ back now. I'd decided to give it to you once we were in the clear, to show just how much I trusted you."

Quote was humbled as he accepted the necklace from her. He felt a tremendous amount of trust and camaraderie with her too – he'd trust his back to her, without so much as a thought – but he had nothing tangible to show for it, until now. He removed his red cap to fit the necklace over his head and down to his neck, placing the small, simple brick of iron that bonded the two of them together down the front of his shirt. "As for right now," she continued as Quote worked the necklace over his own dirty hair, "I believe you have a Doctor to speak to."

He gave her a confused look when she said it the way she had: wasn't she going to go with him? "Sorry to…eavesdrop," the man in the green robe said as he entered the room, startling Quote a bit. Curly was totally calm when she saw him enter uninvited. "But our friend…you said your name was Curly?"

She smiled as she looked up to him from her bed. "That's right!" she said jovially. "My name's Curly, Curly Brace." Having been treated for her minor injuries and entertained while she had her amnesia, she felt comfortable around the man in green, which was more either of them could say for Quote.

The man's smile was still plastered on his face, although it seemed more warm than devilish when she responded. "Oho. Curly Brace…" He drew out the last syllable in her name, nearly hissing like a snake. "And you said our…visitor is named Quote?" She nodded once. "I see. My dear Curly, how do you feel now that the…medicine has had some time to work?"

In response, she sprung off the bed, flexing each of her legs and arms in something of a show, proving to them both that she was feeling totally fine. Quote pulled himself to his feet as well, a goofy grin on his face when he saw that Curly was feeling better than okay. "I feel pretty awesome, actually! Whatever Quote gave me had some real kick to it. It's almost like I was never in any pain to begin with. But," she drew out as she sat herself back onto the edge of the bed, "I'm still pretty tired. I guess 'rebooting' doesn't really count as rest for us robots."

"That's good to hear," he replied earnestly. "Just try to take it…easy, Curly, and I'll see you out of this hole in…a little bit." He turned to face Quote, and brought one of his ugly hands up between them, crooking his two middle fingers towards him, in a 'come with me' gesture as he left the room. Quote turned to look at Curly, double-checking with her and her opinion on the guy.

"He's looked after me since I woke up here in the Plantation," she said warmly. "He's a little creepy, yeah, but I trust him. He knows how to handle a patient." Reassured, Quote left the room right behind the man in green, catching up to him just a few paces outside of the room. The glow of the lit candles lining the corridors giving only enough light to frame the walls and the ceiling – he'd been so excited to find Curly that he didn't notice it until now. Their feet tromped through the moist dirt underneath their feet until the man stopped several metres from Curly's room, just in the middle of the junction leading back aboveground.

"She will be…fine with me, soldier," the man said slowly. Quote didn't like how he would pause on certain words, like on Curly's condition, all the while that odd smile would never falter on his face. "But she needs rest. I do not…doubt your medicine, but she's been through a lot. It would be…best if she did not ever-exert herself." Quote could at least agree on that. After fighting that beast in the core and then that event in the waterway, he remembered how stiff he felt when he awoke in the Mimiga village's reservoir. "In the meantime," the man continued, raising his right hand and pointing towards the far end of the hall with two of his four fingers, "there is a…device in the far room, down this corridor. Nobody knows how to…use it. An elongated tube of glass with metal panelling on its…top and bottom, connected to an electronic control panel on the…outside." Quote was taken aback by the description; not because he found it odd that a teleporter might be in the Plantation, but because he hadn't expected the man to give such a good description of it. "You might find a…use for it."

He didn't really think of a use for it at first, but it might still be a good reason to have a backup or fallback in case things in the Plantation somehow got sour. But he didn't really know how to configure a teleporter and its destinations. On the other hand, if the teleporter was already pre-configured towards someplace where he can get himself back to the Egg Corridor, then he could get Kazuma up here and reconfigure it for him. At the very least, it was worth a look; he gave a nod to the man as he walked past, heading towards the door.

The knob on wooden frame had a keyhole, but the door itself was unlocked, as if someone had entered the room recently. Inside was a fairly simple room, not unlike all the others in the rest area: a trio of torches, one for each wall, with a number of wooden support beams lining the walls and across the ceiling. Bits and pieces of earth would trickle down from the roof as the Mimiga thumped around above him; the ends of the roots from the flowers lined the ceiling above him, each of them extended downward less than a foot as they groped and sucked for water and nutrients. In the corner of the room was a teleporter, as promised, and in the other was the electric generator that powered it. The machine was humming with activity, its many lights on but dim as the machine awaited its next command.

Standing in front of the left room, however, was another of those tall, tan-skinned groundskeepers clothed in some green tatters. The fisherman called them "Drolls", although he didn't know if that was what they were actually called, or if it was just generic insulting slang. It stood totally motionless, its arms bent at the elbows and its legs tense, ready to pounce, just like the ones aboveground. It made no movement when Quote showed himself into the room; just its eyes moved as he slowly walked from the door to the teleporter, his own eyes locked onto his nervously. The Droll's breathing was steady and calm, like it had been trained specifically to just stand there and watch over the machine.

Apprehensively, Quote made his way to the control panel on the teleporter, forcing himself to stop looking at the Droll to see what the coordinates for the machine were. After using the teleporter in Arthur's house so many times, the exact digits were cleanly etched into his mind, and he recognized the numbers on the panel as leading directly to that very machine. That was a happy coincidence, but who did he know worked in the Plantation for a time before getting themselves to the village? Kazuma and Professor Booster were both teleported to the safe-house in Grasstown, so neither of them could have done it. The only other person that might have fit the description was Sue. If she was brought back here by the Doctor's goons, could she have fought her way back here? Could she have warped herself back to the village?

He tacked in a few confirmation commands on the control panel, and the large machine immediately began to whir, its many gears working and its lights shining. Even if Sue wasn't back in the village, he could at least check up on Professor Booster, and see if he was okay. There was no telling when Misery or even the Doctor himself would be making another–

"_Killer robot!_" the Droll suddenly yelled, its voice loud, low and reverberating, shaking more dirt off the walls with its volume. Quote jumped in surprise at the sudden yell, as first unsure where it could have come from, but the Droll was the only other person in the room. He felt very exposed, suddenly, inside a hill with a bunch of Mimiga that won't even look at him, in a room alone with a large, muscled body that was suddenly accusing him of being a 'killer'. He twisted to his left, towards the Droll, as his right hand went for the silver sword on his left thigh, ready to draw it if he had to, but he didn't get the chance: with practiced speed, the Droll nearly catapulted through the air towards him, and before he had a chance to even know that he was under attack, the entire weight of the body rammed into his, slamming him into the dirt wall behind him. He fell to his knees before falling unconscious altogether.

* * *

He awoke in a much darker room sometime after. His head was throbbing – an all too familiar sensation lately. The room was very cold and damp, and there was a steady drip of water from between the rocks above him landing right on his chest. There was an outside source of light only a short distance away from him, helpfully illuminating the rest of the details in the room for him to follow as he pulled himself to his feet, wearily rubbing the dizziness from his eyes. He lay on the cold, hard, jagged stone, and the entire room around him was uneven and unprofessional; as if they just tossed him into a random crevice in the wall. He turned his eyes toward the source of light: there was a door leading out and back into the familiar open walls of the Plantation, but there was a wall of iron bars blocking his way out. The walls, the light, the colours, the iron bars, and the generally pained and dizzy feelings he had reminded him of the first cave he woke up in; he remembered wondering if it was a prison, just like the one he was in now.

He shuffled himself into a sitting-up position, feeling the familiar drag of all his gear as he pulled himself up. He checked his shoulders for his guns and his hip for his sword, although they all seemed to be shifted unnaturally-yet-comfortably along the ground as he slept. The jetpack was still strapped around his arms, and his tow rope was still wrapped around his waist. They hadn't taken his equipment, peculiarly, although he wasn't about to complain. His hat was still firmly on his head, but it felt lopsided and crooked; he shifted the cap a bit on his head, to a more natural position on his skull. He remembered everything up to being knocked out: reviving Curly, getting to the teleporter, and then one of those Drolls rushed him before he had a chance to think. He took a slow look around his cell – Curly wasn't in there with him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. Either she simply hasn't been found yet, or she's been taken somewhere else. Or she managed to fight off the Droll with her Polar Star.

Curly's absence aside, he wasn't alone in his prison cell. Just a few metres away from his was a rather fat Mimiga, its face buried in some rations that were provided for the cell. Its head was nearly as wide as its body, and the simple green shirt it wore strained to cover its body entirely, is fabric torn in locations to compensate. Sitting next to the fat Mimiga was another; a much more modestly-sized Mimiga wearing a thick, heavy cap and glasses with frames thick enough to rival Jenka's. He recognized the latter as Jack, the Mimiga he had met only once before in the Mimiga village, although he wasn't acquainted with the plus-sized Mimiga stuffing himself next to him.

"Hey," Jack said, noticing Quote sitting back up under his own strength. "Mahin, stop gorging yourself for a minute." The larger Mimiga turned to face Jack, his mouth surrounded in crumbs and spare food-stuffs that hadn't made it down his maw. Jack pointed towards Quote, and Mahin turned to follow the finger, noticing for himself that the soldier was awake. His narrow eyes, mostly obscured by the thick fur of his face, lit up and his messy mouth curled into an awkwardly friendly smile.

"Well, look who's awake," Mahin said, his voice sounding a little lower than most other Mimigas he had heard. "We thought you were dead. Jack was worrying himself to starvation over you."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I just wasn't hungry, man. You're the glutton that needs something to chew all hours of the day unless he passes out."

"No I–" Mahin began, swallowing the mouthful of crackers he had practically inhaled before continuing to further his point. "No I don't. Right now just happens to be lunchtime for me. We've lived together for years, Jack, you know when it's time for me to eat."

"Uh-huh. That was your excuse two hours ago."

"Yeah, and its still lunchtime. It'll be dinnertime soon, too, so grab what you can before I get to it."

Quote picked himself onto his feet while the two squabbled like children over their food. He walked himself over to the iron bars keeping him out of the Plantation and in this jail cell, wrapping his fingers around the bars. From just outside the door, he could see a small chunk of the farmland, growing a sea of budding red flowers across every last inch of viable soil. He could see small dots of white, roaming over the fields and tending to the crops. He could also make out a large divot in the ceiling, where the entire roof just seemed to collapse into itself into a hole going straight up. He hadn't noticed it before, but the jail cell he was in was fairly high off the ground, and the Plantation was an enormous place. He couldn't see where the hole was leading to from his angle, but, considering that the Plantation was already high up in the mountains, he was willing to bet that the opening would lead him to the Doctor. The biggest issue, though, was making it up that opening; his Booster would overheat before he could even reach its mouth.

"This is the jail," Jack said lowly as he approached Quote from behind. Quote had figured that much out. "Those who try to defy the Doctor get thrown into here, to be a part of his next experiments. Mahin, Kanpachi and I were the only ones left in the village when King had left for the Sand Zone; Mahin and I fought back as hard as we could, although Kanpachi willingly gave himself up." Quote didn't know any 'Kanpachi' off the top of his head, although given how few Mimiga there were in the village at all, he was willing to guess that he was actually the fisherman Mimiga that he had been reunited with just recently. "We want to get out of here, bad, but we don't know how. I wanted to ask you to blow up the bars with your missile launcher, but Sue said that was a stupid idea. The walls around us are hardly glued together as it is, and she's worried a big disturbance like that would cause a cave in." Quote let go of the bars to look inquisitively at Jack. Sue was here? And not too long ago? His eyes ran over the room once more, trying to find corners and holes Sue might have been hiding in. "She's not here," Jack said sadly. "We tried to wake you up before they took her, but you didn't flinch no matter how hard she smacked you."

"You must mean a lot to her," Mahin said, sitting on his rump and wiping the crumbs from his lips, apparently finally feeling satiated. Even with Jack nearly whispering, Mahin had managed to pick up the entire conversation; his ears must have been pretty good. "She was caring for you the whole time. Besides the whole 'smacking' bit. She was moving you around as best as she could to make you more comfortable, and she put your hat back on your head when it fell off, and everything."

"She wrote you a letter," Jack continued for Mahin, downtrodden. "We don't know what's on it. It's in your right pants pocket." Quote dug his hand into the pocket, and sure enough, there was a stiff piece of paper crammed in there, jutting upright in his pocket. He fished it out: it was a single piece of paper, folded four times to fit into his pocket, and on it was some barely-legible handwriting. She must not have been very good with her Mimiga fingers. "I'll be in the corner," he said, already making his way back to Mahin, "brainstorming some other ways for us to get out of here if you need me."

Quote nodded as he turned back to the letter Sue had written for him. The writing was messy and her lines were squiggly, but, considering that she wasn't used to her own hands and she had nothing flat to write on that he could see (he briefly wondered where she got the pencil), it was still a pretty good job. He began from the first word, paying close attention to each line; anything Sue went through the trouble to write down was no doubt important.

_This is Sue_, it began simply. _I don't think I ever told you much about all of us, or why we're all here on this island in the first place. We came to this island from the surface by helicopter, for research. Booster was on our helicopter, and so was my mother, my brother, a few specialized assistants…and the Doctor as well. His name is __Date Fuyuhiko._ Although his name wasn't really that important, it was still interesting to know that the monster could actually be called something. _He was there to, well, be a doctor, I guess. For the most part he was actually pretty good at what he did, which made his sudden change once he got that Demon Crown all the more surprising._

_That crown, once the property of the master of the island, grants monstrous magical powers upon its wearer. I thought it was a load at first, but, here I am, writing a letter with a pencil I can hardly hold. Date knew about the crown long before even getting to the island – it was why he wormed his way into our group in the first place. Once he had that crown, nobody could stand up to him. I tried. It can't be done._

_We didn't have much choice other than to keep conducting our research under his watchful eye and his iron grip. Date wants to rule the whole planet, with this island as his stronghold, using the Mimiga as weapons. You saw what the flowers do to them in the Egg Corridor. Try and imagine hundreds, if not thousands, of them, all at once._

_Anyway, I managed to slip out of the Plantation when nobody was looking way back before we met, but I'm worried about the others. He's managed to manipulate the other Mimiga into growing his garden for him – they have absolutely no clue what it's going to do to them when they eat the flowers. Once he's ready to attack, he's going to have them eat them all, all at once, and send them all in a murderous rampage on the surface. And with the magic from that crown, he'll be able to control and maintain them all to do his bidding. I'm not going to lie: he'll probably succeed. And with me being a Mimiga, however unnaturally, I'll probably be no different._

_Me and my fate aside, there's a passage in the far end of the prison cell, under the water and in the wall. You're a hardy soldier-type, but that passage goes too deep for me to follow, so I don't know if you'll be able to make it yourself. Jack knows about it, but Mahin doesn't, since I'm worried that he'll hurt himself trying to get down it, or worse. Mahin's not exactly the most buoyant Mimiga ever, you know. I don't know where it leads, but if it gets you out of the cell, I need you to find a hidden hideout in the east end of the Plantation. If my mother is alive, she'll be hiding there, thinking up some plan to counter Date for us. I guarantee she has something in mind for us. The password to get into the hideout is 'yrots evac'._

The letter was signed in her name as best as she could with her handicap. He looked up from the slip of paper, towards the far end of the prison cell. There was a small body of water there, just like she said, and it looked fairly deep, considering its dark colour. He reread the letter, double-checking that he hadn't skipped any detail or instruction, and folded the latter back up into the small square he found it in. Rather than place it back into his pocket, he placed it underneath his cap, knowing that the device on his neck won't activate until he's neck-deep in the water, and he didn't want the lead on the paper to run or for the paper itself to tear.

Quote began walking towards the back of the room, towards the pool of water in the back. He didn't really know how he was going to be discreet behind Mahin, if it was worth attempting at all; he was going to notice Quote disappear under the water and then not reappear for a good deal of time, if at all. If he wanted to keep with Sue's attempts to hide the passage from him, it was going to be difficult.

"Hey," Mahin suddenly asked as Quote approached. "Are you hungry?" Jack shrugged his shoulders amusingly when Mahin asked the question; it was all he ever thought about. Quote chuckled under his breath when he saw Jack's expression, and shook his head. "Oh, good," he said to himself, turning back to the rations. The crate they were stored in was considerably empty. "More for me, then. It's supper-time." And with that, he began gorging himself on the foodstuffs remaining.

Quote kept walking, watching the huge Mimiga bury his head back into the food, his noisy mouth chomping and gulping noisily as he ate. "Don't worry about Mahin knowing," Jack whispered as he approached. "No amount of noise is going to break him away from the food once he starts. You should be safe." Jack must have shared Sue's concerns over whether or not Mahin would be able to swim the distance. "Just try and not forget about us, alright?" He nodded, promising to himself that once he found Sue's mother and they worked out some kind of plan, he'd find his way back to this prison and rip the bars right off the walls if he had to.

Looking over his shoulder towards the distracted Mahin, just to make sure he was still busy, he quietly trudged himself into the water, the familiar cold wetness creeping up his ankles and shins steadily until the water splashed onto the device. It beeped and quickly sprang to life, the air bubble enveloping his entire body, head to toe, and flushing out any water caught in its field. He was a little wet, but he could breathe easily for a time. The light under the water was very poor, though, and while he found the passageway leading further into the wall easily enough, he had a tremendous amount of difficulty following it in. Thankfully, at least, the water was still, making feeling his way along the walls not too bothersome.

The passageway continued only for a few metres, but it was still deep and long enough that an untrained Mimiga like Sue or Jack wouldn't have been able to make it without some assistance. He wasn't too sure about himself; he was happy for the device on his neck. Eventually, the path broadened up on both sides, and the ground curved upwards towards a shore. There was still no light, though, and he was still feeling along the walls and the ground with his hands and feet. The ceiling was still tall enough for him to stand up straight, which he was thankful for, since it meant he wouldn't have to take any more surprises to the skull.

Even out of the water, the path continued upwards in a sharp spiral, leading him around and around as he climbed upwards. The walls still remained wide open, which concerned him as he climbed – as far as he knew, he might be taking wrong turns and paths as he climbed, leading him to who-knows-where. The rough walls wore down his palms as he felt along them, and he occasionally tripped over the odd fallen rock or step up or even his own two feet. Soon enough, however, the passageway came to an end: light seeped in through a hole in the wall large enough for him to fit through at the end of his climb, making the last few steps for him an easy chore as he pulled himself to the cave's mouth.

He was facing back into the Plantation. Given the angle and how he could see the gardens below, he was probably standing right on top of the prison cell's door, a few stories below. He guessed that the Drolls just didn't know about this obscure opening so high up, which was why it was totally unprotected or secured. From his new view point, he could see everything the Plantation had. He could see the crystal-clear reservoir below him, with the fisherman Kanpachi sitting lazily on the shore, toying with the bobber on his fishing rod. He could see the pit in the gardens below him, separating the field into two parts, with the pit itself leading to the rest area underneath the hills. He could count the Drolls sitting patiently among all the flowers, watching over the Mimiga that were tending happily to the flora.

He sat down, reaching up underneath his hat and withdrawing the letter he kept safe in there. Like the rest of his head, it was totally dry – he unfolded the letter and read the last paragraph a third time, just to be sure that Sue had told him to search the east side of the Plantation. He brought the missile launcher back over his shoulder and peered down its scope, switching it on and activating all the neat features it had. The radar immediately blipped to life with dozens of little dots, and each Mimiga and each Droll that he could spot through the lens was outlined with a small red square, with labels and estimated times listed next to them. The digital clock in the upper corner of the lens told him that it was very early morning. But most importantly, the compass on the bottom of the screen told him that he was already facing east, which meant that the hideout was on the very opposite end of the Plantation.

He switched off the lens and placed the missile launcher back over his shoulder. He peered over the edge of the cliff he was sitting on; it was a solid four or five stories straight down, onto the next 'island' of dirt suspended in the air by those chains and scaffoldings. If he were just a story closer, he'd be able to simply leap down – he'd been practicing his landings, and he was confident his abnormal strength could take the punishment. But he was just a _little_ higher than he was comfortable with to make that jump alone. He checked his jetpack, rotating his right foot very slightly and feeling the machine growl to life and the slight force it made in any direction he began tilting his foot. It had been switched on since the outer wall; Professor Booster was right when he said he wouldn't have to worry about any fuel.

Standing back up, he looked over the edge again, to gauge how high up he was. He steeled himself as he mapped out just how he was going to make the leap: he'd jump off, fall for only a short distance, and then kick up the jetpack when he was about halfway down. He thought it was a fairly foolproof plan as he finally got up the nerve to make that broad leap out of the opening in the wall high in the sky.

The sensation of approaching the ground as quickly as he was wasn't unfamiliar to him, but he got too caught up in trying to remember to react to actually react; he pulled up with the Booster too hard and too late, and wound up falling over himself when he hit the ground roughly. The patch of dirt didn't even bob underneath the weight of his hit, giving him absolutely no lean to recover with. He didn't hit it harder than he could have – any thrust from the Booster was better than none – but he still felt the impact recoil into his ankles fiercely as he fell over himself, trying to regain his balance and stability. Failing, he eventually came to a rest on his side, his feet aching but he was otherwise alright.

He picked himself back onto his feet, moaning to himself with each movement, before the Drolls could have a chance to throw him back into the prison, although his concern was mostly misplaced: the three that watched his performance didn't even make the slightest of movements to try and take him in. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking at any time; even the Droll in the underground rest area looked like he was just going to let Quote pass until he suddenly realized that he was a robot. He hoped that if he just kept to himself and not make any more scenes like that, they'd leave him be.

The far end of the lower level of the Plantation curved upwards, to meet the 'second layer' suspended in the sky. It seemed like a good place to make a hideout, but he didn't expect finding the way in to be easy – it'd be a poor hiding spot if it was. He made his way across the suspended islands, easily crossing the small gaps between the clusters of dirt. The Drolls wouldn't take their eyes off him, but they were all very passive towards him all the same and simply let him go. The Mimiga were a bit different: they'd only take fleeting glances at him as he passed them, and they'd specifically move to another lot of their individual farms as he got near them.

The Plantation was an enormous place, although, perhaps simply because he could see the limit to the area's expansion, the jog to the far east wall of the cave was fairly brisk. The lower area of the Plantation arced upwards unnaturally, with a miniature cliff-face pressed into the rising dirt. More red flowers grew on it, with more Mimiga tilling them, with more Drolls watching them. The cliff only rose as high as the second layer of the Plantation, and simply flattened out into a wide plateau once it got high enough. The left side of the cliff's face had been manipulated into a pseudo-staircase using only loose rocks and stones, making climbing the cliff to get to the second level easier, though perhaps more treacherous.

He stood atop the plateau of the cliff, searching all along the rough wall and its far corners for anything that could give him a clue on the hideout's location: some oddly-placed stones, or a crevice in the wall, or something that could tell him where it could be, but it was clear that they couldn't take the risk of making the entrance stand out – the only way a person was going to find the entrance was if they knew there was something to find in the first place. While he looked, he took the opportunity to peer up the enormous hole in the ceiling that he noticed earlier; an upwards pit that seemed to just shoot straight up for several hundred feet before it tapered into darkness. The hole appeared unnatural, like it was drilled, but the only place he could imagine it leading to was wherever the Doctor was hiding, being pretty close to the island's peak already. He resumed his search for the hideout: he figured he should try being inconspicuous as he looked, but seeing as how he was the only robot in the Plantation – not to mention all the weapons he was carrying – he figured he was going to stand out no matter what he tried.

He looked all over the Plantation's eastern side as he walked its wall, heading north. He walked slowly and paid close attention to everything around him, doing his best to not miss a detail as he continued: he inspected every wide crease in the wall and dug around the ground whenever he found an unusual plant or stone or marking on the dirt, making sure that no suspicious mark was left unchecked as his search for the entrance. The eastern wall connected to the reservoir as well – even though the odds weren't likely, he stuck close to the wall all the same as he searched, and that included dipping into the water directly in his search. After nearly an hour of searching and picking through the minutest details of any suspicious marking he found, he was confident that he had scoured the entire north-eastern section of the Plantation and that the hideout wasn't on this side. Although he had only spent half of his possibilities, he still felt a little apprehensive over not finding it yet.

After taking a quick detour back to the underground rest area to check and see that Curly was still safe and that the Droll hadn't gone after her too, he resumed his search on the south-eastern end of the wall. Like last time, he didn't let the slightest hint slip past him as he leisurely walked all through the corner of the Plantation. The Mimiga became nervous whenever he stopped by their acres of farmland as he looked all through their crops and pathways looking for anything, like a handle or a lever to a trap door. He found himself playing Chicken with the Drolls whenever he needed to see if they might be guarding an entrance, intentionally or not. He hadn't found anything out in the open, though: while it seemed obvious that they wouldn't keep a hideout right in the centre of their crop fields, he still couldn't risk not examining everything.

He led himself back to the far eastern wall, having examined the brunt of the south-eastern area. He examined each rock and boulder lodged into the wall, looking for anything that might stand apart from the mouldy-green uniform. As he kept near the wall, searching high and low and paying attention to everything he was stepping on, he noticed a small partition closer to the corner between the eastern and southern walls. It was just barely wide enough for a person to wiggle into while facing forward, and from a distance, it blended into the rest of the wall almost perfectly. The partition only reached a few feet above his head as well. Inside the closet space, the floor simply dropped down several feet, but there wasn't any trap door on the bottom of the hole or in the opposite end of the crawl space. Nevertheless, he'd have to inspect it anyway; looking around the Plantation to make sure nobody was watching him (he was a fair distance away from the nearest farm), he pulled his machine gun and his missile launcher closer to himself to be able to squeeze in, and dropped down the hole.

Behind him, leading back into the ground of the Plantation, was a simple wooden door. It was rotten and its hinges were rusted, but he was positive this had to have been the hideout Sue mentioned in her letter. There was a sliding, wooden peephole on the door, just a foot away from its top. The damp, mouldy brass knob was locked, however; it wouldn't twist or turn no matter how hard he tried. Instead of trying to force it, he simply knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

He could hear light footsteps from inside the room that grew louder as however was inside approached to answer the door. With a quick, sudden movement, the sliding peephole opened quickly, and he could see a pair of dark blue eyes with wrinkled crow's feet peer through the hole and look him over immediately. The eyes narrowed, and he heard a woman hum to herself through the door as she judged him. "What's the password?" she asked quickly and sternly, wasting no time.

He opened his mouth to speak, and at first, he only managed to convey a squeaky, scratchy sound instead of anything resembling words. He cleared his throat loudly and rubbed his neck – he felt like he hadn't spoken a word in years, and he was trying to remember how to. Coughing lightly to oust the rust in his throat, he looked back into the eyes behind the door and tried again. "Yrots evac," Quote said loudly, clearly and definitively. The peephole shut immediately, and he could hear several locks clicking and unlocking, when finally, the brass knob turned over by itself and the door swung open, showing him the Sakamoto hideout. The tall woman that asked him for the password stood adjacent to the door, allowing Quote to enter; she quickly shut the door and relocked each of the door's sturdy locks again once he was inside.

There wasn't a whole lot to the hideout. It was the size of a small hut, with a fairly low ceiling. There was a pair of mattresses with thin blankets sitting in the far corner, and a single chair with no desk or cushion to sit on in the other. In the centre of the room was an peculiar device; it was about twice as wide as he was and half as tall, with a thick, sturdy sheet of metal welded onto its top like a platform. It had a series of rockets mounted all around its circumference, although it appeared unfinished; it seemed to be missing some components for them all to connect to on the central 'master' device. Other than a clay jug sitting in the far wall, half-empty with fresh water, there was nothing else to this hideout.

"So," the woman began once she finished locking the door. Quote turned around to face her; she had Kazuma's hair and height, and Sue's eyes. She looked middle-aged, and her skin was wrinkled under her eyes and all across her worn hands. Her form was slender, although he couldn't see much of it behind her long, white lab coat that opened to reveal a pair of black, torn jeans and a simple burgundy shirt. "You must be the saviour Sue spoke of." Sue had never addressed him as a 'saviour' of anything, so he wasn't too certain about that title, but he nodded once anyway; aside from Curly, whom he was pretty certain Sue hadn't met, there weren't a lot of heavily armed robots still active on the island to be confused with. "Thank goodness," the woman sighed with relief as she approached him. "My name is Momorin Sakamoto. Sue's and Kazuma's mother.

"We don't really have a lot of time with formalities," she began, heading towards the single chair, taking a seat as she spoke. Quote chose to stand. "So let me just get right to business. I used to take my chances working at the Doctor's side, but once he found the seeds, he had no more use for me. So he had me tossed off the edge of the island." Quote did a double-take when she said that; he remembered not being able to see the ground when he was climbing the outer wall, the island being as high up as it was. And she was just thrown off the island, the moment she was deemed 'unnecessary'? "Chivalry is dead, let me tell you. Luckily for me, his throwing arm wasn't that good, and I just wound up getting caught on a precipice after only a few stories. But this is neither here nor there.

"Right now, I'm working on building this rocket," she said as she gestured to the large device in the centre of the hideout. He had no idea how she was going to fit it out the door and up that narrow partition in the wall. "Have you seen the enormous gap in the roof of the Plantation?" He nodded, recalling the hole in the ceiling that went up for a huge distance before simply melting into nothingness. "The Doctor's hiding up there. This rocket will get you to his throne. Or, well, that's the _plan_, but I don't quite have all the parts yet. Which brings me to you and the Booster you're wearing." Quote glanced over his shoulder towards the jetpack. It was suddenly obvious what she wanted from him, although he hadn't thought of it himself until just now. "Would you mind if I borrowed it for a bit?" He was already working to take off his weapons first, before moving onto the secure leather straps that kept him to the Booster.

"Thanks a lot," she said as he finally managed to remove the jetpack and place it on the ground, leaning against the device. "But even with Professor Booster's most prized machine, I'll still need more parts to finish the rocket. Are you busy right now?" Aside from his primary objective of defeating the Doctor, meeting with Momorin was the most urgent objective on his agenda, so he shook his head. "Ah, good answer," she hummed, smiling at him as she picked herself up and walked towards the mattresses. "Our saviour indeed. When you're done strapping all your guns back onto you, I need you to put this on." She reached underneath one of the two mattresses, and pulled out a rubbery mask with eyeholes; it was adorned with fluffy, white, obviously fake fur, and it had a pair of ears that reached down to the hole in its neck. Its long, oddly flexible snout told him it was an obvious Mimiga disguise – obvious to the point where there'd be no question that it was just a mask. For one, the mouth was sewn shut and the eyes would appear too depressed into the skull to be natural, and for two, the mask did not cover the rest of his tall, metallic, very un-Mimiga-like body.

"It looks ridiculous for a disguise, I know," she said, noting his sceptical expression. "But the Mimiga and the Drolls have the worst eyesight ever. It sounds unbelievable, but Kazuma wore this thing for a time, and they all seriously thought he was a Mimiga, just like them. They opened up to him, tried to give him work, let him rest with them in their rest area, everything. Just trust me on this one."

He accepted the rubbery mask, looking its eyeless face over as he held it flat in front of him. It looked a little small for him, to say nothing of the ridiculousness of the idea that the Mimiga could actually fall for this. He looked back towards Momorin; she looked dead serious about the mask and her own story. "It'll only be for a short while," she confirmed. "There are some parts in the Plantation that I need you to get, and the Mimiga won't even consider giving them to you if you're not one of them." He looked back to the mask. He wished Kazuma was here to verify her story, but nonetheless, he took off his red cap, and fit the tight mask over his head. It pulled on his hair and tried to stretch his skin, and when he managed to wrestle it over his face, it clung tightly, too tightly, to his skull. He wasn't too fond of the mask already and he hadn't worn it for more than a moment.

"It looks good on you," she said, suppressing a giggle while Quote flattened out the wrinkles on the rubber. He didn't find it to be quite as funny. "It's very charming. Perhaps a little misshapen for a Mimiga, but it's very convincing all the same." His peripheral vision was totally cut off from the latex of the mask creeping up on his eyes. His mouth was forced shut from the tight pull on the mask, and his throat felt stiff and compressed. When he was convinced that the mask wasn't going to look or feel any better than he had it, he placed his cap back onto his head, completing his laughingstock of a disguise.

"The Mimiga of the Plantation aren't allowed to speak with humans, and you're human enough to them. But not with the mask; Kazuma said they were fluffy little chatterboxes: they'd talk to him over anything once they saw him. They probably enjoy fresh faces. Are you with me so far?" Considering just how uncomfortable the mask was, he wished he wasn't, but he nodded. "To complete the rocket, I'm going to need some supply of electrical power, like a battery. There are sprinkler systems all over the Plantation, right? One of those will do just fine. Get me one of those, and I'll get you started on the next thing I'll need."

He frowned – it wasn't like she could tell – at how she finished that sentence. Just how many things will she need, and, by extension, how long will he have to wear this thing? He left the hideout, his hands constantly pulling and itching at the mask, trying to ease the tension it had on his face before he had to speak with any Mimiga.

* * *

He didn't really know where to begin looking for a sprinkler system for the rocket. There were plenty all throughout the Plantation – one sprinkler for four square plots of farmland, and there was a ton of farmland in the enormous Plantation. He couldn't just pick up a system straight out of the ground, not because it would be difficult, but because he'd attract too much attention. Not that he hadn't already: after wandering around the Plantation for only a few minutes in search of an unmanned sprinkler set or something similar, he was nearly always accompanied by a Mimiga or three, each holding their own individual conversations with him over whatever came to mind. It wasn't the constant conversations that were making his head spin, either: it was the fact that Momorin was telling the honest truth. The Mimiga _did not_ recognize that Quote was not a Mimiga, and that he was just wearing a silly rubber mask. Some would comment on his abnormal height or his hairless body, but these things seemed like common deviations to the Mimiga, and they simply mistook him for a very tall, very hairless Mimiga that happened to be carrying a missile launcher and a machine gun. Even the Drolls weren't looking at him suspiciously anymore either. It totally rattled his mind!

It was nearly impossible to keep track of every word of every conversation directed towards him, but he tried his best, just in case one of them said something useful about the Doctor, or about some sprinkler system he might be able to take. "The surface dwellers are planning an attack on us," one of them said, which alarmed Quote. "So we're raising the red flowers to prepare. If what the Doctor says is true, then these flowers better bloom, and fast."

"With the red flowers on our side, those killer robots will be a piece of cake!" another, younger one chimed in. Quote agreed, knowing all too well what the flowers would accomplish. He looked down at the small, fluffy creatures, trying to impose Toroko's frenzied, wild eyes and bleeding gums on the small, cute, harmless faces on the adorable Mimiga. "Bloom away, my crimson dainties!" it said happily as it went back to hoeing the fields and distributing the seeds equally in its toed lines. Knowing what he knew, and knowing what they didn't, they'd finger him as an enemy if he tried to even pluck a flower before it was ready. Not to mention, some of them just seemed so ecstatic over farming the flowers; he couldn't bring himself to simply torch the whole place, even if the sprinklers weren't on.

He continued searching the fields for a sprinkler he could take back to Momorin. There were entire groups of Mimiga each singing gospel praises specifically to the Doctor as they planted and tilled, the idea that he was genuinely doing them a good deed firmly etched into their heads. Some wished he lived a long and glorious life, looking after them as their hero and saviour. They all seemed to forget their individual homes and villages that the Doctor had kidnapped them from; the houses he's burned and the people he's killed. He couldn't decide if the Doctor had used his crown's power to brainwash them into believing in him and forgetting his crimes, or if he was simply an excellent speaker and managed to convince them that he was a good man. Quote found himself believing the latter – after all, if a mask as obvious as his could fool them…

Not all of them were singing the Doctor's praises, but that was only because they were too focused on their work to bother. Some of them berated Quote for not picking up a shovel and getting to work himself, although one of them was fussing over a mangled piece of metal, just to the south of the plateau in the far east end of the Plantation. His clothes were dirty and there were some farm tools lying idle in his own, currently vacant, plot of farm and his dirty paws tried fruitlessly to get the device to sputter back to life. "It busted again!" he cried, his hands dropping from the device in exasperated exhaustion. "The third time this week! Man, he's going to have my head over this…" Quote didn't know who 'he' was, but he had a hunch the Mimiga wasn't referring to the Doctor specifically.

The Mimiga stood up, the chunk of metal gripped in his hands. It had a damp spout sticking out of what was otherwise an unintelligible mess of pipes and wires – the spout, though, looked exactly like the nozzles of the other sprinkles all throughout the Plantation, so Quote assumed it was a sprinkler system he was holding. Luckily for him, the Mimiga turned around and noticed Quote, but more importantly, his empty hands.

"You're the new guy, right? The tall, hairless Mimiga with the hat? It's gotta be you." Wow, news travels fast. "We'll have a plot of land for you to look after soon. Gotta keep your hands busy – can't let the Doctor down! But until then, I need you to take this busted sprinkler system and change it for a new one in the rest area in the centre of the fields. You know where it is?" Quote turned around, searching the dozens of farms for the pit that dipped straight into the ground about halfway between the plateau and the room he met Itoh in. He turned back to the Mimiga and nodded, the fake snout on his rubber mask bobbing unrealistically with the movement, although he didn't seem to notice. "Good. We have dozens of spares in there lying around; give this one to the technician there and bring back a fresh one." The Mimiga heaped the entire awkward load onto Quote's hands, all at once, when he finished the order. "Hop to it."

The sprinkler system in hand, he turned back towards the rest area and walked until he was out of the Mimiga's sight. He looked at the mess he was carrying: would Momorin be able to use this? She said that she needed the sprinkler for its electrical charge, and he was carrying a sprinkler, but he wasn't certain if the sprinkler he was carrying would fit the bill: it didn't look like it could carry any sort of charge in the condition it was in. It didn't look like much of anything, for that matter. He figured it couldn't hurt to stop by the rest area for a new one. He could go back and check on Curly again, and maybe lighten her day with his mask.

He was just as popular as ever as he got back to the rest area: he was hardly left alone each step he took, constantly swamped with Mimiga all asking him questions and conversing about how awesome the Doctor was and how the hard work was worth what the Doctor was working towards and everything. Things were no different in the rest area itself; all the Mimiga that were milling about between rooms were all over him, always trying to strike up a conversation over whatever, and as much as he enjoyed being treated so well by them, he wasn't exactly the talkative type: his unmoving mouth would have given him away in an instant. One of them _was_ keen enough to notice the half-destroyed sprinkler in his hands and figure out why he was even in the area in the first place; he was pointed towards the third room on the right in the main corridor of the area.

The room he was directed to had no bed or desk or dresser, unlike the others, but there were several other, brand-new sprinkler systems lining the corners. A small Mimiga with a flat head was busy with yet another system, his focus solidly on the tools he was using to keep the system together and in working order. He wasn't nearly as dirty as all the other Mimiga in the Plantation, although judging from his thin fur and clouds in his eyes, he was probably too old to keep up with the backbreaking field work and instead stayed in the cool underground room, toiling away on his sprinklers.

He lifted his head as he heard Quotes footsteps fill the otherwise silent room, and right away he was drawn to the pile of scrap metal he was carrying. "Another one?" he asked, his shoulders slumping when he noticed that he would have to give up yet _another_ of his sprinklers, just for it to be abused again. He recognized the handiwork in destroying his inventions right away. "Just set that one down anywhere," he said, turning back to his current project as he waved his wrench around, gesturing to the whole room, "and just pick up any of the other ones. And tell that walking wrecking-ball that if he breaks another one, I'll have his head. This is the third one this week."

Quote complied silently, placing the broken pile of metal on an unoccupied space on the floor, and then reached for another, solid sprinkler set to take back to Momorin. Before leaving the rest area, he went back to check up on Curly again, finding her safe and sound – the man in the green robes was keeping his word, for the most part. She found his mask to be absolutely adorable, convincing him to pull it off (the rubber and latex dragged painfully across his skin and pulled on his hair) so she could try it on for herself. She played with its floppy ears and flicked its thick snout, giggling all the while, although she felt the uncomfortable squeeze of its rubber and the drag as she pulled it off. He was happy that _someone_ enjoyed it, at least.

The walk back to the hideout was still just as noisy, but otherwise smooth. He was looked around as he loitered the south-eastern section of the wall, making sure he wasn't being followed – there were no farms nearby, so none of the Mimiga could stick around with him before having to fall back to their separate sections of farm. He dropped down the small alcove hidden in the wall and knocked on the door when he realized that it was still locked.

The sliding peephole on the door flew open, and Momorin's eyes looked down at him, noting the sprinkler he was carrying. Her eyes curved into arches as she smiled at Quote's mask, but she did not make a move to undo the door's locks. "What's the password?" she asked, her tone serious although her stuffed laughs still sounded clear through the door. Quote looked up at her, a little surprised that she had to ask that. Was the mask not identification enough? "Sorry," she said, knowing that he was a little perplexed by the question, even through the stiff mask. "Better safe than sorry and all that."

He could at least appreciate the sense of security she had. "Yrots evac," he said loudly, although the rubber mask muffled his voice a little bit. She heard him clearly enough, though, and quickly went to work undoing the locks on the door, allowing him into the hideout with the sprinkler.

"Welcome back," she said warmly as she stepped aside to let him walk into the room, locking the door back up when he was in. The large rocket sitting in the centre of the room looked like it had some work done on it; the Booster was connected to it through a series of wires, and a small, simple monitor the size of his fist was lit up in simple pixels on the rocket itself, with a appropriately small keyboard resting on the ground just below it. He wasn't a genius like Kazuma when it came to computers, but to him, it looked like she was calibrating the rocket with the Booster's own programming. He placed the sprinkler he brought with him on the floor just next to the rocket as he entered.

"Let's see here," she whispered to herself as she looked through the sprinkler system her brought back. After simply flipping a switch to activate the machine, it quickly burst to life; its long nozzle was spinning and clicking rapidly, trying to disperse the water it was not receiving. "Awesome," she concluded. "Plenty of juice in these batteries. This will be fine. Good job! You have any problems out there with the mask?" Quote shook his head, his busy fingers already fumbling with the mask's line across his throat, in a hurry to get the painful thing off his face. "Whoa there," she said hurriedly, her hand reaching up and grabbing his own. "You're not done yet. I need you to get one more thing for me." He grunted in disgust as he dropped his hands to his sides; she laughed openly in response.

"Just one more thing, I promise, then you never have to put it back on again," she reiterated. "I need you to track down a man named Itoh. He's an 'engineer of considerable talent', in his own words. He's been turned into a Mimiga, like Sue, so he might be a little difficult to find among all the others." Well, at least it was going to be easy; knowing Itoh's character, he probably hasn't moved an inch away from that glorified closet he was hiding in. "But he's also one of the most timid men I have ever seen. You so much as snap your fingers near the guy and he'll decide he's under attack." Quote agreed there, remembering how badly Itoh reacted to him just opening a door. "He fled from the Doctor right off the bat, but he can't have gone far, knowing his 'disability'. He knows the plan, and he'll recognize the mask; he should have something for you when you find him."

Momorin got right to work disassembling the sprinkler, after its fully-charged batteries and its complex electrical system, leaving Quote to undo each of the locks on the door himself. He tried sticking closer to the outermost limits of the Plantation, practically clinging to the rocky walls, in an effort to avoid some of the more densely populated areas and steer clear of too much attention. He was worried that if Itoh heard him and his fan club coming, he might panic and try to hide, or something worse. He was also hoping to avoid catching the eye from the Mimiga that told him to get him a replacement sprinkler. The only really safe areas away from the Mimiga was on the other side of the Plantation, across the reservoir, but jumping right into the water just to keep himself from getting too much attention seemed counterproductive.

It was unavoidable that he'd attract some friendly attention, considering how the farms covered nearly every little piece of dry land on the bottom level of the Plantation, although all the attention he garnered was in the form of some friendly greetings and some casual chatter as he passed by. Given how every Mimiga seems to know all the news fit to hear within the single, huge cave within minutes of it occurring, they already felt like they had known him ever since he got here. As a result, his popularity was slowly waning, although the Mimiga simply couldn't get over their fascination for his shape and oddly short fur all over his body. By the time he got back to the closet Itoh was hiding in, he was, mercifully, alone.

The second he swung the door to the storeroom open, there was a frightened yelp echoing through its narrow walls and the busy sound of someone scampering away at a frightened pace, knocking over some of the crates Quote had emptied earlier. It was reassuring to know that Itoh was still there, at least. He allowed himself into the room, clicking the door closed gently behind him. Itoh was not difficult to spot: he was cowering in the corner, facing away from the door, hastily camouflaged by the metal containers surrounding his stark-white fur. He was quivering and panting as he tried to keep himself concealed, his breath short and ragged, wheezing with each inward breath. Quote rolled his eyes.

He took a few steps forward, towards Itoh's hiding spot; he didn't intend to scare him, and he wasn't going to antagonize him, but it would be awfully difficult to hold a conversation with the man if he couldn't be flushed out of his hiding spot. He rapped his fingers across the metal, the loud, shrill tapping noise causing Itoh to simply leap right out of his hiding spot in surprise. "Please don't kill me!" he shrieked, whipping around to face his attacker. Quote recalled that very same cry being the exact same thing he said when they first met. "I'm a human! I've just been–" Itoh paused between his practically-rehearsed holler for mercy to look the soldier over. He seemed to recognize him at first, but it was clear he was having trouble placing faces to names.

"Have we met?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on Quote. "You _seem_ familiar, but I can't tell from this far…my eyes have been near useless ever since I've been turned into a Mimiga." Quote wasn't sure if he should be surprised: it would explain why the other Mimiga couldn't see past his disguise, but at the same time he was already practically standing right in front of him, and he _still_ couldn't tell. He brought himself closer to Itoh – who only made it more difficult as he tried to lean back from the looming entity, still convinced that he was in danger – so he could see the mask clearly and help him with Momorin's plan.

"Oh!" Itoh yipped happily when he finally recognized the clothes and the hat. "You're that killer robot that doesn't kill!" He frowned at the description. "We met only a few hours ago, right? You climbed up from the outer wall?" He nodded, extending his hand to pull Itoh out from in between the containers. With a rough tug, Itoh was back out into the open, standing on his feet rather than curled into a ball. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that…I've been pretty cowardly even before my transformation, and now that I've been turned into this, I've just become all the more insecure and self-aware of my limits, you know." Itoh was a _huge_ contrast to Sue, who took her transformation in stride; she tried to fight a frenzied Mimiga, and she even relearned how to write. Not that he could blame Itoh for being a little apprehensive – he'd been in the same position when he first woke up.

Before he could ask Itoh about Momorin and her plan, Itoh got right up in his face and took a good, hard look at the mask. "There's no question," he said as he eyed the fur and the snout and the holes for eyes. "That's Kazuma's mask. You've found Momorin, I'd wager, and she's ready to go through with her plan." Quote nodded enthusiastically, glad that he wouldn't have to explain it all himself. "She had that plan of hers way back when the Doctor just got in charge and tossed us all into the Plantation. If I remember right, she was literally picked up and thrown off the island just a little while ago, when the Doctor got his hands on the flower seeds. It's good to know that she's still alive. She's too fierce to let a little fall like that keep her down." He sighed as he walked himself back in between the metal containers. "Nothing like me, that's for sure." He sounded a little wistful as he said that.

"She had me whip up a controller for her for her rocket," he said loudly as he squeezed himself between the metal. "It's not programmed to work with anything specific yet, but she knows enough to handle that herself. It'll point her rocket where it needs to go; I'd stake my title on it." After fumbling around with some empty boxes he had hidden away back there for a moment, he shimmied himself back out from between the containers with a small, green device kept in his left paw. It had a very simple digital readout and only a few buttons on its side, and it was missing a rear entirely, letting all its sensitive circuits hang out. "You have no idea how difficult it was to build this thing with these hands," he said, grinning as he passed the device onto Quote, "but I'm not one of the world's best for nothing, you know. Give Momorin my best for me, will you?"

Quote carefully placed the device into his left pants pocket, nodding back to Itoh before turning around and leaving the room. He took the same route back to the hideout in the far south-eastern wall, although this time he was trying to avoid the sprinklers more than the Mimiga: he wasn't sure just how sensitive the device he was entrusted was, especially considering it had no back covering to it, and he didn't want to risk getting it even a little wet. While the farms grew sparser the closer he got to the boundaries, there was still no definitive was of avoiding the active systems; he did the best he could.

His hands were already itching and pulling on the rubber mask, unable to contain his excitement over the promise that he wouldn't have to wear it any more when he delivered the controller. Back to the familiar partition in the wall, he took another look around the area before dropping down, to make sure nobody's prying eyes were on him. He knocked on the door a little louder than he knew was preferred, but he was just too anxious to get the mask off him.

The sliding peephole on the door opened up quickly, and the same dark blue eyes stared down at him, quickly amused by how greedily his fingers were gripping at the line around his neck. "What's the –"

"Yrots evac," he said impatiently, much to Momorin's entertainment. She shut the peephole and got to work undoing each of the door's locks, finally managing to swing the door open just as Quote finally got the rubber mask up and over his head, feeling the unfriendly pull on his skin and his hair for the last time. He was in such a rush that he forgot to remove his hat, which fell to the ground with a clack as he pulled the mask over his face. He was too wrapped up in the feeling of finally being rid of the mask – feeling his metallic-yet-oddly-flexible skin and hair finally relax after being bunched up against the rubber for so long – to notice right away. He only realized it after Momorin had set all the locks once more and she tried to hand the red-and-white cap back to him.

"Kazuma didn't like it either," she laughed as he accepted to hat sheepishly. "Said it pulled on his hair whenever he tried to take it off. It gave him a rash for a few weeks too, but luckily for you, you won't have to worry about that. Just throw it back onto one of the mattresses." He did as he was told, giving the rubber mask a light toss onto the nearest mattress lying in the corner of the room. The rocket sitting in the centre of the hideout looked to be even further along than before: each of the rockets were firmly wired and secured to the 'master' rocket in the centre, and the 'master' rocket appeared to be nearly finished entirely itself. It still needed some panelling on its underside, but other than that, all of the circuits it borrowed from the sprinkler system appeared to be wired in correctly and efficiently. He could clearly see the two large batteries from the sprinkler hooked into the underside of the panels as well. The Booster was still hooked into the rocket, and the simple little monitor still displayed a calibration progress bar, so he didn't expect to get his jetpack back anytime soon.

"I assume you've found Itoh?" she asked expectantly as he readjusted his cap. He was in such a hurry to get that mask off him that he nearly forgot about the controller. He dug his hand into his left pants pocket and gently wrapped his fingers around the controller, bringing it out and showing it to her. Hopefully, this little gizmo was what she was after. "Ah, that's it, all right," she said as she admired Itoh's handiwork on the controller. "This is the controller that he's so proud of. It's not the best he's ever done, but considering what he's had to work with, I'd really expect no less from the man."

She sat herself down in front of the small monitor and pulled some loose wiring out from behind it, plugging them directly into the controller. The monitor suddenly displayed some new windows and notifications about the new application that it was connected to, and at the same time, the digital readout on the controller lit each of its diodes up at once, displaying no message but confirming that it was in working order.

"This analysis would be a lot easier if he were actually here with me. He knows this stuff front to back, but I only know enough to get around." He tapped on her shoulder to get her attention, then pointed back towards the door inquisitively. "No, you don't have to go get him," she said, reading him like a book. "I can manage by myself, and besides, you'd probably have to drag him by the feet to get him out in the open. I appreciate the concern, though." She smiled warmly up at him. With how she spoke and acted around him, he didn't doubt she was a mother. "Thank you very much for all your help. I wouldn't have lasted too long out there by myself; Sue was right to trust you. It'll be a while before I'm finished here, and I don't need any more help with supplies or anything, so why don't you take a rest while I hammer out the details with this thing?"

He looked up from Momorin and towards the two mattresses in the corner. His feet _did_ feel a little stressed – he hadn't had a chance to lie down since he woke up in the prison cell with Jack and Mahin. A chance to let them rest for a little bit sounded appealing to him, but he glanced back towards the door, worried about the hideout's safety. "Don't worry about us," she said soothingly, recognizing his apprehension. "Nobody knows where we are, and there's no way you'll be able to sleep through any commotion they make if they _do_ find us. Don't worry your handsome little head over it and get some rest." And without another word, she was back to work on her rocket, clicking away at the keyboard with her eyes glued to the screen.

He wasn't totally reassured, but Momorin sounded like she wasn't going to let him say otherwise, so he made his way towards the mattresses. They were wet, torn, and discoloured from spending so much time in the damp hideout underground; not at all like the mattresses in the Mimiga rest area further in the Plantation. She wasn't complaining about it, though, and he wasn't too picky about how comfortable his rest was going to be anyway: after having been knocked out so many times and waking up on the hard, cold stone floor of some new and unfamiliar area every time, anything soft at all was a very welcome change of pace. He didn't really expect to fall asleep – he never had whenever he took a voluntary break, although he assumed it was more a 'robot' thing than how tired he was – but, after removing his weapons and laying them between the mattresses, he lied on his back on the wet comforter and shut his eyes.

* * *

He awoke with a start. Not because of any noise or emergency, but because he _awoke_. He had actually managed to fall asleep on this dirty wet mattress under the ground in the Plantation. It was the first time he really managed to actually sleep at all since he first woke up at the beginning of this whole mess: every other time he just sat or lay still. He must have been quite a bit more exhausted than he thought. To fall asleep without being knocked out was really rejuvenating, he felt – his feet felt like they were never in any pain in the first place, and the stress from the constant weight of the weapons on his shoulders seemed to have evaporated entirely.

He raised his head from the cushion, looking around the small hideout for Momorin, but she wasn't with him. Neither was the rocket she was working on, or the jetpack he had leant to her – the only thing remaining was the shell of the sprinkler system he had brought her. What's more, the door leading back out to the Plantation that was normally locked up air-tight was wide open. He suddenly felt panicked; had they been attacked? Had something happened, and he just _slept_ through it? He imagined some Drolls finding their way down here and pulling the door open, right off its locks, while Momorin yelled and screamed at him to wake up and help her. He quickly strapped on each of his weapons and ran out the door, his machine gun held firmly in his hands, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

The first thing he noticed when he emerged from the hideout and back onto the floor of the Plantation was that there wasn't a single Mimiga anywhere. The sprinklers were still running, but there were no red flowers remaining in the fields. Every last flower had been uprooted, and every last Mimiga had been taken with them. Along with Momorin and her rocket missing, just _what_ had he slept through?! Was the Doctor ready to begin his attack? Was it too late to save the Mimiga?

He was about to begin sprinting up the plateau of the Plantation to get a better view of the area, when he heard a loud, feminine voice carry through the still air from the centre of the cave, directly underneath the enormous black pit in the ceiling. "Hey!" she yelled, grabbing Quote's attention easily. He was just glad somebody was still around to give him some information. "It's about time you woke up! You're a heavy sleeper than Kazuma on a weekend!" His focused his eyes, trying to get a better image of the woman that was yelling to him. He couldn't recognize any definite features from his distance, but the tall, slender figure and the long white coat identified her as Momorin easily. Next to her was her rocket, and next to _that_ was one remaining Mimiga, its busy paws hard at work putting the finishing touches on the machine.

He was relieved that Momorin was safe, but the fact that there was nobody else left in the entire Plantation still made him nervous. Knowing that Misery or the Doctor himself must have had something to do with it, he felt as though he were being watched with each step he took. Although Momorin clearly didn't feel the same way, if she was comfortable enough to raise her voice like that towards him. As he approached the rocket, he got a clearly view of the Mimiga that was working on the rocket: he had hoped it was Jack, and that he had somehow not only evaded capture like the rest of them, but he had also managed to escape from his prison cell high in the wall of the Plantation. Surprisingly enough, the elongated face and the blue collar told him that it was Itoh instead; he had apparently gathered up the courage to leave the safety of his hideaway to help Momorin when he realized everyone else was gone.

"I hope you had a good rest," she called, placing her hands on her hips as Quote approached, shifting the machine gun back across his right shoulder, confident that any threats in the room had left with the Mimiga. "Because the rocket's all done. Just as soon as you're ready, we can have you strapped in and you'll be sent straight to the Doctor in no time." Quote looked past her and eyed the rocket that he was supposedly going to be riding: there were no little monitors hooked into it, and most of the panelling on the underside had been bolted into place firmly to the main rocket in the centre. Itoh was only fine-tuning the wiring on one of the 'legs' of the overall machine, to make sure that each of the rockets fired simultaneously and with equal strength. "You look like the strong, able type. I believe you'll be able to take down the Doctor, no problem." He felt a little awkward towards her praises – not that he didn't appreciate them, but he didn't need any more pressure on him than he had already. "Itoh was kind enough to show up and lend us a hand in the endgames. He finally got over his phobia of being next to another person."

"No use in hiding anymore, you know?" he asked, his eyes trained on the rocket he was working on, not bothering to respond to the jab. "The rocket couldn't be finished without me here anyway. Momorin's no engineer, unlike yours truly." His voice sounded very prideful and haughty as he ended the last sentence, causing Momorin to groan in amusement over his own delusions of grandeur.

"I have a feeling you'll need this." She said, changing the topic, as she stepped around the rocket and reached down, just out of his sight, to pick up the Booster he had leant her. "Thanks a lot for letting me use it," she grunted as she lifted the jetpack to give him. It wasn't all that heavy, but her arms were tired from lugging around that huge rocket. He quickly took it from her tired hands, setting it back down while he moved his weapons off his shoulders. He noticed that she had turned the Booster off for him; he found the simple ignition switch on its collar and flipped it on. He didn't want to find out it wasn't even on when he needed it most. "Professor Booster's handiwork is pretty incredible. It would have taken me weeks to finish building this if I didn't have this jetpack to base my own project off of."

She looked up, staring straight up the dark pit above them. "Directly above us," she began, "is a path leading directly to the island's throne room. You'll be able to get there using this rocket; I'll stake my life on that." Easy for her to say; she wasn't going to be the one riding it. "There's nobody left in the Plantation. No Mimiga, no Droll, nobody. I looked everywhere, from the top of that man-made mountain to the reservoir to their rest area underground. Every Mimiga – young and old, fat and thin, strong and weak, _all _of them – are gone. There isn't a soul left." He looked up towards her when she mentioned the rest area, the Booster only half-strapped to his back. He was hoping for her to say something about Curly or Jack and Mahin, but when she didn't continue, she must have meant what she said. Curly, and probably that man in the green robe, weren't here either. Had the Doctor picked them both up too? Even worse, what if Misery found them? "So, it'd be safe to assume that the Doctor is about to use the red flowers, if he hasn't already."

"Do you guys think…" Itoh brought himself back up from beside the rocket, apparently all done with whatever he was doing. "Do you guys think I'll be a human again if the Doctor dies? I'd really like my thumbs back…"

"Only one way to find out, Itoh." Momorin looked back towards Quote, expecting a specific answer from a question she hadn't asked yet when he was done getting the shoulder straps from his weapons back onto him. "Are you ready to go? Once we send you up there, there isn't any turning back, I'm afraid. The Doct– Date is about to get his army of frenzied Mimiga ready to go, and if we want to stand half a chance of stopping him, we can't waste any more time."

Quote had his problems with the whole scenario. To start, there was the rocket he was going to ride as it sent him straight up a tunnel with no end in sight. There wasn't any secured seat anywhere on the machine, leading him to believe that he was expected to simply lie on the top as it shot him upwards. Working with the jetpack was one thing, but he didn't have any training or practice with something of this extreme calibre – he was worried the G's alone would crush him flat. For that matter, when did the rocket know when to stop before it either broke free of the surface, or it crashed into the ceiling that was probably on the other end of the pit? Assuming he even survived the trip, he'd have to fight the Doctor, likely Misery, and possibly even Balrog, all by himself, probably all at once; he was getting queasy just thinking about the stress of keeping up with that sort of battle.

But there was no time to worry about those sorts of details, unfortunately, considering the Doctor was ready to move forward with his own plan now. As nervous as he was, he nodded towards Momorin, answering her question. "I can tell you're not," she said, reading his body language easily. "If I had more time to work on the rocket, I'd have at least installed a seatbelt in there somewhere. But I only started working on it a little while ago, shortly after Date had come across the seeds and started cultivating them here. I don't have nearly the building experience Itoh does or the programming know-how that Kazuma has. And since Itoh was too chicken to help me out when I really could have used it, I'm afraid this was the best I could do in such a short amount of time." Itoh didn't respond, lowering his head shamefully, knowing that she was only telling the truth. Momorin didn't even look at him when she mentioned his name.

"Just lay flat on your stomach on the top of the rocket," she instructed. "Your back would be preferred, but you're carrying an awful lot across your shoulders. Itoh and I will handle the rest." The top of the rocket was perfectly flat, comprised entirely of a simple thick sheet of metal that was welded to the actual computers and mechanisms below. He did as he was instructed, sprawling himself out wide on the large rocket – there was more than enough room for him to spread out his limbs – and he lay perfectly still, waiting for Momorin and Itoh to tell him what to do next.

"Okay," she sighed deeply, sitting herself down in front of the little screen that was still attached to the rocket's underbelly. "We've already run diagnostics, and we're absolutely positive everything is in totally working order for you. Here's the plan: once we boot this thing up, we'll have fifteen seconds to run ourselves to a minimum safe distance before lift-off. You'll probably feel a little heat, but it won't be anything the average human couldn't survive." Her word choice wasn't the most encouraging. "We only have enough fuel to do this _once_, so you positively _need_ to jump off once you hear an alarm that will go off after exactly twenty-one seconds after you leave the ground. Once you get to the apex of your flight, you'll be looking for a simple ledge for yourself to leap to. On there will be a wooden door, not unlike every other wooden door on this island, and just past there should be where the Doctor's hiding. Once you're up there, Itoh and I will start looking for a way off this rock. Sue told us about the egg that was ready to hatch in the Egg Corridor, so we'll be heading there first.

"The negative-G's you'll feel on your back will be uncomfortable, but since you don't breathe air or pump blood, that should be your only concern." She finished tacking her fingers on the few buttons the machine still had attached to it. "This would be the part where I ask if you have any questions, but I've run through everything you really need to know. Just keep totally still during lift-off, and remember to jump off once the alarm rings, and you'll be fine." Before she pressed that final button to send him on his way, she removed his cap from his head and offered it back to him. "You'll probably want to lie on top of this, if you want to keep it." He lifted his torso off the machine, allowing her to place the red-and-white cap underneath his chest.

She hesitated once more before pressing the launch button on the machine. "I haven't had the chance to say," she began, causing him to look back up at her, "thank you for saving my kids. Sue was about to get killed in the Egg Corridor, and Kazuma was locked in some building in Grasstown, starving to death. I know this seems like an odd way of repaying the favour – putting you on a rocket without a lot of safety features, to fight Date by yourself – but I just want to say that you're my hero." She was very nearly about to cry when she thought about nearly losing her son and her daughter. "I don't know what I would do if I lost either of my kids. The rest of the world, and maybe even the island, might forget you and your sacrifices, but I promise that the Sakamoto's will not." Quote didn't know what to say, or what to do, in response. He hadn't expected to hear Momorin say any of this at all, especially not now, but he guessed that he couldn't really understand what she was feeling since he wasn't a mother. All he could really bring himself to do was to simply give her a thumbs-up, which caused her to giggle through her sniffles.

"Good luck up there," was the last thing she said before finally pressing that button. She and Itoh quickly retreated from the launch area, leaving him lying flat of his stomach on a thick sheet of metal welded to a rocket that was going to launch him hundreds of feet into the air at a crippling velocity. The hum of the machine was low at first, but quickly escalated as the fifteen seconds slowly passed by. He was facing towards the prison of the Plantation, and couldn't help but feel guilty, knowing he hadn't checked to see if Jack and Mahin were still there. He knew Momorin said that _everybody_ in the Plantation was gone, but having not seen for himself, he still had a nagging feeling that he was going to wind up going back on his promise towards them. It was far too late to ask if they could put off the launch for the five minutes it would take for him to check, though.

On the fifteenth second, each of the rocket's thrusters immediately kicked on, and a deafening boom filled the entire cave as they each focused their firepower directly below him. Like Momorin had promised, he felt a sudden wave of intense heat rise up from over the corners of the rocket once the thrusters each began to fire. His vision rattled and vibrated as the rocket pulled itself into the air. In just a few short seconds, he began feeling a pressure on his back as the rocket picked up speed and rose in the air faster: it wasn't too terribly unbearable, but the unnatural feeling of it made him believe that he was being pressed into jelly by some invisible press. He was unable to focus on any one point on the far walls of the Plantation as the rocket shook, each of the many boulders and pebbles in the walls melding into one impossible painting.

The rocket slowly, then quickly, started to race upward, pressing his body flat against the hot metal surface of the device. All he could hear, particularly with his ear pressed flat against the machine, was the unbearable booming of the thrusters, and all he could see was a nonsensical canvas of dull browns and greens as he rose. His first thought was how he was going to hear the alarm on the machine ring if all he could hear were the low, constant explosions of the rocket.

The colours of the Plantation immediately shifted to a much bolder black, and the noise from the rocket reverberated and intensified as the sound bounced off the suddenly much more compact walls of the tunnel. The pressure on his body built upon itself with each passing second; he didn't know if he should be worried about passing out, because as Momorin, said, he had no heart to withstand the strain. That aside, though, he felt as though his arms and legs were going to burst and deflate from the weight he was feeling on his back as he climbed. The necklace Curly had given him earlier was beginning to forcefully make an impression into his chest. He was worried about the missiles in his missile launcher, and if the weapon would discharge accidentally during the climb. The ride was only supposed to be twenty-one seconds long, but already he felt as though he had been spending twenty-one minutes aboard this thing.

Just as he began to feel like his chest wouldn't be able to handle the pressure anymore, each of the thrusters suddenly quit. Just like that, the rocket calmed and began to slow its climb, living in the air solely on the remaining momentum. The noise in the tunnel stopped all at once, and the heat that was pooling over the sides of the machine slowly began to cool. The shaking of the machine, and by extension his eyes, had ceased.

The ringing in his ears from the thrusters drowned out the sound of the alarm that was loudly ringing at a very rapid pace from just below his platform. He didn't notice it at first; his mind was too busy reeling from the feeling of the weight lifting off his back and all the other intrusive sensations stopping almost as suddenly as they started.

Once the wind rushing past his ears began to subside and the rocket was beginning to ease off its ascent, he finally realized where he was and what he had to do. His arms and legs were bruised and in a tremendous amount of pain, but he forced himself up as quickly as he could, grabbing his pressed-flat hat from underneath himself, trying to focus his eyes on his immediate surroundings. He was looking for some ledge to jump to, he remembered. It wasn't difficult to spot; the end of the tunnel in the sky opened up into a flat ledge that surrounded him on all sides. He could even see the door Momorin had told him about. But he was already beginning to descend with the rocket, and he didn't jump as quickly as he needed to: before he could leap of the rocket, he was already below the floor he needed to leap to.

He sprang off the rocket with as much power his legs could give him, but in their crushed, unenergetic state, he could leap high enough to grasp onto the very edge like he needed. Rather than panic, he pointed his right foot upwards, and the jetpack on his back burst into its own life, lifting him that last little bit upwards. Once his feet cleared the hole, he kicked his foot forward, towards the safety of the ground surrounding all sides of the hole, before the Booster finally overheated itself and gave him no more lift. He crashed to the ground, falling over his own ankles, before coming to a rest on the safety of the floor over the tunnel above the Plantation.

He lay still on his left side before turning over and coming to a rest leaning against the Booster on his back. He was still dazed; he still couldn't see straight; he was still _extremely_ hot all over; and the nervousness from nearly missing the ledge and falling back down hundreds of feet to the Plantation finally caught up with him. He knew he couldn't rest for too long, what with the Doctor being _right there_ and all, but his tired arms and legs still needed to relax for only a moment. The low boom of the rocket impacting the ground below him faintly reached his still-ringing ears only a few moments later.

After spending a few minutes recuperating, he pulled himself onto his feet, placing his hat back onto his head, and faced the wooden door in the corner of the room he was standing in. His limbs certainly felt better, even after such a short rest, even though they still stung a little bit. He couldn't risk waiting any longer, however: doing his best to walk off his injuries, he brought himself up to the simple door, twisting the knob on the door and pulling it open with a gentle tug.


	9. Chapter 9

He didn't find the Doctor behind the door, as he was expecting. He didn't see Misery or Balrog, and he didn't see any 'throne', or anything of that particular sort. All he found past the door was yet another stretch of cave, leading deeper into the island. He didn't find himself too surprised by the revelation, however; he had come to accept that there was a good chance any door on this rock will just lead to another network of veins for him to spelunk through. He entered the cave and shut the door behind him, feeling a particularly odd draft breeze all around his body as he did so. It was awfully chilly, but he led himself to believe that it meant there was a way out of these infinite walls somewhere nearby.

The ceiling was low and the walls were narrow, but he had walked through plenty of congested paths before and he wasn't intimidated by this one. The lack of light wasn't too much of a challenge either: he had grown accustomed to working by feeling and was making plenty of headway just by feeling along the walls and the floors, careful to keep his balance and take things slowly in case he wound up tripping over something. The familiar pattern didn't hold for long, however, and his near-blind trip through the cave soon took him into some waist-deep water. The water was fairly warm, but it was otherwise not too unusual; he waded forward, his knees sloshing against the thick fluid with only minor drag.

The water level did not drop, as he was expecting, but after only a short wade through the pool he came up on the other side of the miniature shore. So far this little cave was fairly tame, in all respects: there weren't a lot of twists or turns or rises or dives, and he hasn't had to dip his upper-half into any water yet. He thought that maybe the Doctor just preferred ease-of-access between his throne and the Plantation. The one thing that kept bothering him was the steady increase in room temperature – it wasn't hot enough to make him nervous yet, but it was constantly climbing the farther he walked in. When he rounded another easy corner, he understood the reason why: this cave, unlike anywhere else on the island, had shallow pools of lava stretching for only a few metres, but still longer than he could jump by a good margin.

The temperature from the molten rock stretching out in front of him singed his skin and wrinkled his clothes, and he was still a good distance away from the actual liquid itself. On the other hand, at least it illuminated the walls easily enough, showing him the exact distance he had to jump and any obstacles he might have to avoid if he didn't want to take an unexpected plunge. There was a pair of stalactites hanging between him and the next safest area, but other than that it seemed like a fairly straightforward leap.

He planned out his action before taking it, thinking his options through carefully before he took the risk of crossing the pool. The heat alone was pretty extreme the closer he got to it, and he knew it'd probably be so hot as to be distracting when he finally makes the jump. The two stalactites over the pool weren't necessarily in his way, but he'd have to make a very precise jump to avoid them both without risking using the Booster for any more manoeuvrability; considering how quickly it overheats, he could use every little bit of leeway he could.

Lining himself up as best as he could between the two inverted spires, he calmed his shaky nerves as best as he could before running full-tilt towards the lava pool. The heat climbed and escalated massively with each long stride, until he made the jump straight over the pool. The temperature climbed up and danced through the legs of his pants, up and out his shirt, charring every little bit of his steel skin it touched. The heat of the rocket up the shaft was comparable to the heat of the lava, only it hit every part of him instead of just his fringes along the platform.

Halfway through the flight, before he could begin descending, he kicked the Booster active, pointing his right foot in the direction he wanted to fly. Reliably, the jetpack responded, propelling him the remainder of the journey while perfectly level with the lava below. He had to twist his shoulders slightly to avoid the spires, and the heat rising from below was making his head spin, but he devoted every last bit of focus he could muster on just passing through this one little obstacle. The ceiling slanted downwards sharply at the end of the pool, which he didn't notice until he bumped his forehead off it, but otherwise he managed to cross it safely. He continued down the cave, in a hurry to leave the lava, and its rising heat, behind him.

The light of the lava followed him down the tunnel a short distance, illustrating to him the layout of the next little bit into the artery. The rocks were jagged all over the entire path: the ground was flat, but the rest of the uneven cylinder contained sharp spikes surrounding the entire path. He couldn't tell if they were unnatural or not, but the slightest brush against his hard skin caused even his durable steel to scratch. The glow only followed him so far, and when it became just a little too dark for him to see clearly, he nervous shuffled along the floor, not daring to reach out and feel along the walls to find his way out.

Eventually, after slowly but calmly running his feet along the flat floor to find his way out, the caves began to light again from the familiar ominous glow of more lava pools. It was a particular pattern this cave displayed: a room filled with lava, followed by a narrow tunnel with sharp rocks and poor lighting. Each pool of lava got more complex and risky to clear, while the tunnels stretched for longer distances, spiralling in any which direction they felt like: the walls seemed alive, purposely bending and shuffling their paths into trickier jumps and thinner passageways simply to dissuade him from continuing down his path and towards the Doctor. And when his careful resolve refused to waver, they'd mix up their patterns by tossing in narrow walls with lava pits and almost-blind jumps straight down into more deadly spikes. His walk become more a dance the farther down the road he continued, his jump heights carefully planned and coordinated and the Booster on his back responding to each upward and sideways command it received as he progressed.

His cuts and scratches built the longer he stayed in the cave, tearing along his arms and legs with each unlucky scrape against the stones. He was far too along within the cave to stop or turn around, however; he pressed on, doing his best to not build upon any of his current injuries. The cave itself grew more and more irate with his progress, throwing in deep drops straight into lava that he was forced to take down and boost his way forward once he cleared a certain depth, or pillars going straight up that were lined with the odd spires that snaked its way left and right as it went higher. More than once he had made a mistake with either his own abilities or with his handling the Booster, and he had to pay the painful price in the form of an unsightly gash through his skin or a charred heel of his shoe. He didn't know how he was going to fix his wounds later; he was pretty certain his skin wasn't going to patch itself together. At the very least, he had no blood to spill, although flexing any part of his body with an injury was still quite painful.

The cave began to get creative as he continued down its depths: among all the other threats of the cave, it showed to him another simple pool of water, leading him to believe that he could just walk through it like last time. He paused just before entering, though; while the water wasn't boiling, there was still a steady rise of steam, telling him that the water was nearly as dangerous as the lava was. After clearing it no differently than any of the other pools and passing through yet another corridor with the spikes that bobbed and waved in every possible direction, he emerged in a slightly larger room with platforms suspended from the ceiling by a series of rusted chains, with the only obvious exit out several stories above him – far too high for the Booster to reach alone, so he was forced to climb the platforms, which were often laden with more of the spikes that seemed to be growing out of them like a kind of moss. He knew he must have been getting close to the end of the cave, however, since the chains keeping the platforms aloft had to have come from somewhere.

He had been keeping track of his time in the cave via the scope on his missile launcher since he cleared the second vat of lava; he had so far spent a little over an hour trying to navigate this cave. It was around mid-morning by now. He moaned and flinched as he shifted the weapon back over his shoulder, his aching wounds stinging harshly with each movement he made. The cave itself seemed to be growing just as exhausted, as its final obstacle was a single pillar with a narrow opening going straight up, with more of those spikes lining its sides. The opening led straight outdoors and out of the cave – there was a steady stream of sunlight washing into the cave directly above where he was standing, and a welcome, refreshing morning breeze wafted through the room and cooled his burnt skin. The pillar was pretty high up, but if he could squeeze enough juice out of his Booster, he should be able to at least grab onto the final ledge and pull himself to safety.

Taking as great a leap as his tired legs could manage and pushing the Booster to send him straight up when he reached the height of his jump, it was a fairly nerve-wracking final few seconds until his hands reached up and groped for the outer rim of the exit. He managed to dig his hands into the calm grass above him just as his jetpack gave up, overheated for the moment. His legs dangled uselessly over the long, long drop, his entire body and all his armaments supported only by his grip on the open ground above him. His cuts flared, his muscles shook, and he groaned a low, powerful groan as he used all his strength to lift himself out of the hole, slowly, until first his head came over, followed by his elbows and then his chest. With most of his weight already out of the pit, he pulled up his waist and his legs, lifting his body out of what he hoped was the final cave and crawling across the grass for a short distance to get away from the open pit going straight back into that incredible challenge.

He lay on his back, leaning against his jetpack, staring up into the cloudless blue-grey sky with the sun beating down on him, still rising from the eastern sky. He had seen the night-sky a few hours ago, and he marvelled at the light of the moon and the twinkles of the stars. The light of the day was considerably less marvellous, to him, but he never imagined the sky to be a shade of blue. He imagined it to be more of a solid grey, or perhaps no colour at all like the night. And it was difficult to admire the sun as he had the moon, since he could never look directly at it for more than a second before feeling his eyes begin to burn.

A light constant breeze swept over the area, always heading in one direction or another and soothing his hot skin with each brush. Aside from the wind, the outside area he lay in was totally bereft of any noise at all as he lay calmly on his side. He could see over the edge of the island from his viewpoint, and he could see the infinity that the clouds underneath the island stretched into so many miles away before ending on an invisible line where the clouds below met the sky above. It was just like when he climbed the outer wall, only the wind had calmed down since then and the temperature was a charming lukewarm instead of the frosty chill of before.

Each of the cuts on his body were still aching, and he didn't know if they were ever going to stop or how he could help himself heal. His limbs were still exhausted and difficult to life, but his duty was more important than his relaxation, and he forced himself onto his feet. All along the ground he was standing on were ruins of some kind – many broken arches and finely-chiselled statues remained littered across the ground in groups and blocks, and judging from how smooth and weathered their surfaces were, they had been destroyed for a while. Just to his west was the remainder of the mountain on top of the island; he could see the peak from where he was standing. It wasn't very high up, considering all the climbing he'd been doing lately. Flush with the ground he was standing on, however, was an entrance into the mountain itself. Quote knew that there was no other place the Doctor could be: if he wasn't in that final cave, and if he wasn't out here in the open, then he must have been hiding in there.

Between him and the mountain were very few obstacles: the grassy hills dipped and rose softly in several places but otherwise it was a calm walk. Between the hole he came out of and the mountain, however, was a peculiarly shaped helicopter. It had two small wheels on its rear and a much larger one on the front. It had a very odd shape with a bulbous cockpit and an elongated rear that seemed to stop abruptly behind it, as if it was only half completed. It had a mismatched paintjob to accompany the thought as well, with the rear taking on a lighter-brown tone than the front. Considering the helicopter was so close to where the Demon Crown must have been at one point, the Doctor must have arrived in this vehicle, along with the Sakamoto's.

Another peculiar feature was a cabin with a single glassless window that was nestled on the ground only a stone's throw from the helicopter. It was made from clay and stone with a concrete base – it looked like it was capable of taking a hit. It wasn't expertly hand-crafted, and it even lacked a door, but it seemed fairly new and still in decent shape. Inside was a single bed and a single bookcase with a single shelf; without a whole lot of features, whoever built this little hut obviously didn't plan on staying for too long. The bookcase contained only a few books, and none of them were particularly voluminous, but each title of each book contained a name that he recognized. Each of the Sakamoto's had one; Professor Booster had one; Itoh had one; and Date Fuyuhiko had one. Clearly, it was their own journals or possibly their reports and findings with the island, and this cabin was their shelter. How they all managed to fit into the single bed was a mystery.

He knew it was amoral to peek into their diaries, but there still might be some kind of hint for him to find concerning the Doctor, or maybe even the Demon Crown if he was lucky. Kazuma's and Momorin's journals were mostly just business and their progress with their own fields of study and expertise, offering a very narrow look into their own lives. Sue was considerably more outspoken in hers: she was no scientist and so she had nothing to report, so instead she wrote about how much she hated being the island and how she resented everyone she worked with. Each dated entry of hers contained at least one sting towards someone on her team; how Kazuma was physically frail and Itoh was a snivelling coward and how the Doctor was just out-and-out creepy. Still, she did admit that the adventuring and exploration was entertaining and exhilarating, and in the very first entry she noted how much fun it was to ride in 'the chopper'. Her handwriting was very legible and clean, compared to the letter she had scribbled to him in the Plantation.

Itoh's journal contained very little in the way of words, but each page contained remarkably detailed sketches and blueprints on the next invention he was thinking up. Quote couldn't figure out what drawing was supposed to go with what description or instruction, and Itoh seemed to write in his own private code that Quote couldn't begin to hope to decipher, containing seemingly random letters and numbers and sometimes symbols.

Professor Booster was fairly even with his own personal thoughts and feelings with the island along with his progress and reports with his work. _Exploration of the island's interior would be more effectively accomplished, _his second entry wrote, _had we equipment to facilitate aerial movement. Thus, I have duly begun development upon the "Booster", a small, fuel-efficient jetpack with sensitive and highly responsive manual inputs. Development of this flying apparatus will take place in two stages, versions 0.8 and 2.0_. Quote found it odd that Professor Booster specifically skipped all the other versions in-between and picked an incomplete revision to be the actual landmark, but he wasn't a genius like him, so he didn't bother to try and understand it. _My plans call for version 0.8 to be the first useable version and to allow for a certain amount of hovering. I'm sure I can complete version 2.0, provided I live long enough. It promises to be even more acrobatic and useful._

The last journal to leaf through was the Doctor's. His handwriting was very clean and easily the most legible of the six, although his sentences were very brief and direct. _Second day, found fresh water. Drinkable alone but chlorine tablets recommended._ That was the entire second entry in the journal. _Third day, Kazuma twisted left ankle. He's to keep off it for three days. Made contact with civilization underground, call themselves 'Mimiga'. Rabbit-like, or possibly dog-like, in appearance – out of my practice. Still no lead on DC._ It looked like Sue was telling the truth, about the Doctor being responsible as far as being a physician went. _Fourth day, rations emptying faster than expected. Island exploration assumed half-complete. Found a vein leading into the mountain rather than deeper underground – keeping it a secret. Possibly DC?_ His journal ended there, and everybody else's journal ended on the fifth entry as well. He could probably guess how the rest of the story went.

There was absolutely nothing of interest left in the cabin for him to find. When he left the cabin, he heard some low thumping noises and some deep groans and growls off in the distance. Peeking around the corner of the stone cabin, off in the distance was a pair of frenzied Mimiga – he didn't know how long they were there. One of them was _huge_, easily larger than Toroko was, while the other was half the size but twice the aggression. They couldn't have been there long; he only spent a few minutes in the cabin. Nonetheless, there was no time left to mess around. He jogged his way back towards the mountain, having spent enough time dawdling and lazing already, his arms and legs having recovered a decent amount of energy although his cuts and scratches still stung with each flex on his skin. He steered clear of the two frenzied Mimiga, keeping himself out of their sight and not risking their attention as he ran past. They seemed too interested on staring each other down to notice him as he ran his way into the mountain, thankfully enough.

The inside of the mountain seemed quite a bit more hollow than he imagined. The room was massive and flat, each of the walls a huge distance apart and each made of expertly-laid stone bricks of all shapes and sizes. All along the circumference of the room was a series of elegant stone pillars; many of them were still in decent condition, although some of them were destroyed near their tops. The entire left side of the mountain, or at the very least the room he was in, was gone: in its place was a grated steel wall, like an enormous fence that stretched from the ground to the ceiling, giving him another clear look out into the open sky. In the far end of the room was a spiral staircase that led straight up, into another floor of the mountain's interior. Between the entrance and the far staircase was a simple, featureless, uncomfortable chair made of stone, and floating just above the throne was a familiar white-skinned woman with blue hair in a green suit and a wooden staff with a balled end.

He knew there wasn't going to be any way to try and talk or resolve his way out of this one. He pulled his machine gun over his right shoulder, gripping it tightly in both his hands as he approached Misery. She made no movement or sound as he approached. The simple clacking of his shoes were echoing off the walls of the throne room, providing the only ambience. She watched him approach, and was amused when he didn't open fire immediately after walking himself into range like she thought he wound. "Hey there!" she welcomed warmly, dropping down from her hovering, standing straight in front of him with both her feet on the ground as he neared. He was nearly within arm's reach before he stopped. He hadn't yet raised his sights onto her – if she had anything in common with Balrog, she'd want to banter before engaging with him, and since she hadn't opened fire either, it was a pretty safe bet – and his weary arms and legs could use every second of rest he could buy.

"You really are a tenacious one, I'll give you that." She gave him a sort of look that he couldn't immediately figure out. A peculiar, dismissive type of admiration as she said her words. "I suppose you're here to destroy the Core?" The Doctor came first, but the Core was next on his to-do list. He nodded; no point in hiding his objectives. "I appreciate honesty. It's a difficult trait to find nowadays." She gave him that weird look again, as if she wanted to think highly of him, but didn't want to want that at the same time. "I used to consider you merely an out-of-control robot. I was there for the war ten years ago, so I know how a robot is and isn't supposed to act. But clearly, I misjudged you. You posses thought and understanding; maybe even emotion. You can solve puzzles and sort problems. You're very nearly a human, in all respects."

She paused, her eyes drilling holes into his own. He stared back, unmoving and unblinking, his trigger finger lazily hanging over the lever. She took a deep sigh, looking out over the moving clouds of the sky through the steel grate in the side of the mountain. "You know, I have no love for this island. I'd leave if I could. But it is simply my fate to obey the one that wields the Crown. If the Doctor tells me to jump, I actually _do_ have to ask him how high he wants me to. If he tells me to stand guard at the entrance of his laboratory and kill anyone who tries to get in…well, here we are, aren't we?" They both stood still, waiting for the other one to make the first move. Quote's loose red scarf flapped whenever the winds from outside picked up and rustled through the room. "I have one last question before we begin, though," she stated, her expression and her tone softening. Her sudden demeanour surprised him, although he refused to let down his guard. "Do you know where Balrog is? I haven't seen him since our meeting in the storehouse in the Sand Zone. As dumb and near-useless as the brick is, he's the closest thing I have to a friend on this rock, and as much as I hate to admit, I'm worried about him."

He didn't expect to hear Misery say or ask something like that, particularly right now, of all times. He searched his memory, thinking as far back as he could to when he last met Balrog. It was in the Labyrinth, and he remembered promising Balrog that he wouldn't tell anyone that he helped move the boulder for him and Curly in that chamber. But that was a long time ago; he had no idea where Balrog could be now. He shook his head, trying to remain as emotionless as possible. "I see," she finished, looking a little despaired at his answer. It was difficult not to feel sympathetic for her, as much as he needed to be. "Well, in any case," she said loudly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin, "prepare yourself!"

With a blink of an eye, the balled end of her staff emanated a quick burst of off-blue light, and Misery had vanished. He lifted his machine gun so his eyes were level with the sights and quickly spun himself around, trying to predict where she might reappear. He wondered why she didn't just teleport him back to the Mimiga village or something, since an enormous setback like that would virtually _guarantee_ that the Doctor's plan would succeed. Would he have to stand still for a spell like that to work? Or did she actually _want_ to give him an opportunity to succeed? She was an oddball to figure out, but he had other priorities at the moment.

She was floating in the air nearer the entrance to the room, facing him, going through some odd hand-motions and her mouth was uttering some imperceptible incantation. Before he could run himself into range, a volley of black bubbles, almost like the one she had used on Toroko when they first met, emerged from her staff and soared through the air towards him. They each moved at an impressive speed, but none of them were totally accurate, and most of them missed by less than a yard. They each popped with a loud bang, and he could feel a sudden rush of wind from each burst, so he knew it wasn't what they were made of that he shouldn't be worried about.

Just as he shot a round of his own in response, she vanished in a flash of blue light once again, his own shots fizzing into nothing as they passed through the very spot she was hovering in. She reappeared to his right, in front of the grille fence, and went through the same motions again before another round of bubbles appeared from the end of her staff. They moved slowly and erratically, however, and they floated limply high up in the air, a safe distance away from him. He wasn't sure what she had in mind, but he knew better than to expect her to make a mistake, and ran around their flight path, giving them a wide berth before lifting his gun again and opening fire some more. He didn't land as many shots as he would have liked, but from the sound of her pained flinching, he had at least managed to make a hit before she teleported herself behind him once again.

It was difficult to keep up with her movements or to predict what she'd do next. As she reappeared, she was standing on the ground instead of floating in the air. Her left hand was moving in quick circles in front of her while she lipped her spells as quickly as she could, her bracelets jingling against each other with each quick swing of her arm. She traced circles in the air in front of her, and in a moment, a pair of odd black, wheel-like symbols appeared in front of her, rotating around her front slowly. Quote approached as quickly as he could, getting into range and opening fire with as many shots as he could get in before he would inevitably be distracted or forced to relocate. The sting of the cuts on his skin flared with each movement, but he wasn't about to let them bother him.

The wheel-like things she had summoned had a gaping hole in their centres, so he thought little of it as it fired, expecting his shots to go right through them. He was surprised when each shot that hit their centres dead-on simply vanished, disappearing into nothing without a single one breaking through and getting to Misery. Not all of his shots were aiming for the rotating shields, and a few more hits managed to slip their way between their cracks, scoring a few more hits directly onto Misery's face. She flinched and recoiled, groaning in pain by the end of the volley, but ultimately she felt more irritated than hurt this early in the battle.

Rather than warp away like she had been doing, she pointed the end of her staff towards a seemingly random part of the wall, moving the staff very slightly with her right hand as her left was moving more vigorously in the wind, when a steady streak of faint, easy light erupted from the ball on her staff and zapped into one of the thick bricks she was pointing to. All the while Quote was keeping up as much fire as his gun could give him, pausing very occasionally to keep it from overheating, and while most of his hits were absorbed by her orbiting shields, she kept her focus with a steely resolve whenever she was struck by the ones that did connect. It was obviously hard; her movements would sometimes pause or veer unnaturally to the side, and her lips would stop their moving, but she managed to finish her incantation even under the pressure.

She gripped her staff with both hands and pulled backwards on it with all her strength, as if she were pulling some kind of invisible rope. It wasn't an act either, considering the strain on her arms: her staff really was being awfully difficult to pull, and the stinging feeling of that constant rain of fire on her wasn't helping her. But with enough effort, the brick she had zapped broke the caulk around it and finally slipped free; it moved in which ever direction her staff pointed, as heavy as it was. It followed each movement, either up in the air or side to side, although even out of its wall, it still wasn't a very light object to whip around. Her swings were clumsy and often dragged too far, but the flying brick linked to her staff by her magic was still an excellent weapon, causing Quote to dive forward in surprise, the brick just barely clipping the soles of his boots.

When the block hit the far wall at the apex of her swing with a booming thud, her arms and her staff came to a very sudden stop as well. The vibration of the impact disoriented them both; Misery pulled herself together first and swung the rock in the opposite direction, hoping to catch Quote and crush him against the wall in the second swing. He came to his senses shortly after she did, though, and saw the attack coming with more than enough time to react. He leapt backwards a distance, the brick passing harmlessly in front of him, and the whooshing sound of the huge chunk of rock hammering the air rang in his ears.

The low boom erupted in the room as the brick hit the other wall, drowning out the sound of some light cackling above him. The slow, erratic bubbles Misery had fired were still limping their way towards him, and the moment he unwittingly jumped right underneath one of them, it burst, ejecting a miniature, makeshift bolt of lightning straight down and right through his entire body, flushing itself into the ground through his feet. He wasn't prepared for the hit at all, and the feeling was crippling; he immediately hunched over in pain, feeling an ecstatic stinging sensation all through his spine, making his arms and his legs go numb. Misery had dropped whatever spell she had on the rock, and had warped somewhere else in the throne room while he was distracted, taking her shields with her. He hobbled towards where she last was as quickly as he could, doing his best to walk out the pained feeling he just experienced, his machine gun still held loosely in his left hand.

She was hovering over the throne again, a short distance away and out of his firing range. His body straightened and strengthened with each step, although the peculiar, unwelcome sting of the bolt hadn't left him entirely yet. He couldn't get himself into a sprint, but he still managed to half-jog his way back to Misery, the machine gun unbalanced and unsteady as he kept up the fire with just his left hand.

He had no idea what other tricks Misery might have in mind for him. He was no warlock, himself, but he assumed that if she could just imagine it, she could probably do it. He remembered Jenka having a spell just for fixing her roof, and teleportation was a favourite of Misery's, so there was no real way to prepare himself for anything she might have in mind. She fired another rapid string of bubbles like she had the first time, then warped herself farther back in the room, towards the spiral staircase, putting some distance between them both.

He briefly considered using his missile launcher on Misery. It would definitely cover the distance, but if he was hoping to conserve some of his ammunition for the Doctor. He remembered Curly's stories about how the wearer of the Crown threw stuff at them that she couldn't even guess beforehand, so he would like to put an end to him before he had the chance, and the machine gun wouldn't have that kind of hard-and-fast offensive strength. He picked up the pace, the pain from the bolt slowly leaving his body and his feeling in his limbs returning with each step.

She was in the middle of another incantation when he finally managed to get into his maximum distance, his finger pulling the trigger long before he ran himself there. She felt the burning sting of each quick hit as they landed all over her body, marking her face and ripping her clothes, but she couldn't allow herself to get distracted. Her orbiting shields took the brunt of the hits anyway. With another spell completed, another set of orbs appeared in a circular formation around her, hovering and rotating in a clockwise fashion until there were six of them. They each burst, and from each of them flew half a dozen bats; they were each as long as his arm, each barring long teeth and sharp claws on the joints of their leathery wings, and they were each headed straight for him as Misery warped herself somewhere safer.

It was the first time he saw magic conjure up a creature; it was normally object manipulation or some kind of ethereal summon that could summon an explosive bubble or whatever. Were these bats real? Were they not conjured at all, and instead teleported in from some other section of the island? What other creature could she make up if she had the time and the energy? He would have felt guilty gunning them each of them down if they weren't trying to catch themselves in his skin and distract him from Misery. They were fast and small, but he managed to snipe a chunk of them before one of them managed to hit his machine gun head on with surprising force. His gun was knocked out of his hand and hit the ground with a clank, skidding across the stone for a few yards and well out of his reach.

Seamlessly, he reached for the sword on his left hip, unsheathing it and whipping the blade through the sky, trying to catch some of the nuisance bats in his edge. He managed to get one of them in the wing, but he didn't waste any more time with the distractions and turned around, pointing himself back towards Misery, standing on the ground just in front of the exit to the room.

She was readying another spell as he sprinted as hard as he could toward her, his sword gripped tightly in his left hand. Before he could get close enough to use it, she raised her staff – balled end of it glowing that familiar blue – high above her head, before swinging it back down as hard as she could muster onto the brick floor. From where her staff struck, a series of cracks spread forward and branched out, covering a good deal of the floor in front of her and right underneath Quote's feet. He didn't really spare it a thought, until the ground seemed to rupture and quake all through the many branches along the ground. The stone seemed to explode right out of the ground wherever the cracks touched, heaving up clumps of earth with surprising force.

The enormity of the spell made the entire floor volatile very quickly. He had to avoid chasing after Misery; with the detonation floor fast approaching, he had to take to the air, keeping himself airborne with the Booster while the spell passed under him. He wasn't safe in the air either, with the ejected earth being slung up into the air, as if they were chasing after him. The only safe places to hide were where the ground had already burst, and because of the spell, the entire area was a mess to stand on: there was no even ground to stand on any longer. With some dextrous timing he managed to avoid taking a serious hit from the wave, although he couldn't help bit clip his left ankle in one of the rising clusters, causing it to twist painfully under the sudden force.

Misery had disappeared from sight once again as well, running to some other area in the room. Quote suddenly had a thought; if she was as bound to the Demon Crown and whoever wore it as she and Balrog had claimed, then…was she even capable of using the attack on the throne? Could she really cause the ground to erupt underneath the seat her master was supposed to sit on? His sword remained tight in his grip as he spun around, facing the throne, tracing the cracks in the ground as they proceeded towards the staircase in the back wall. As he had hoped, the lines seemed to avoid the throne entirely, going in a small, uneven circle around the stone chair's legs. He aimed his jetpack towards it: it seemed like an obvious place to keep oneself safe from such a spell, and he was banking on the fact that Misery would think the same thing.

The Booster got him there faster than his legs would have been able to, especially now that his left ankle was in such pain. He chased after the spell as it exploded along the ground, staying safely behind its eruptions as he neared the throne. She hadn't reappeared anywhere in the room yet. He took a guess and simply made a wild swing with the sword through the immediate area of the seat, not sure if he was going to hit anything at all.

An off-blue flash filled his eyes just above the throne itself, forcing him to shut his eyes in surprise, shielding them from the sudden light. He didn't know where he was aiming or what he was going to hit, but he still managed to hit _something_, and it wasn't the stone throne. A womanly shriek rang through the air the moment his blade hit its target, and he felt resistance with the blade as it cut into its target. He opened his eyes just in time for another flash of blue light to fill the room.

The Booster had overheated just as he passed over the throne, bringing him down to the floor in a harsh, clumsy landing. The cracks along the floor had exhausted their leeway, finally ceasing the carnage as they came up to the wall in the far end of the room. He pulled himself back onto his feet as quickly as he could; his left foot hurt and ached from the weight, but he managed to stand on it, if a little lopsidedly. Misery reappeared on the floor at the foot of the stairs; she immediately collapsed onto her left side, her wooden staff clanking to the floor along with her, her conjured shields dissipating the moment she dropped her concentration. He gripped his bloody sword in both hands, ready for whatever else she was going to toss at him among the ruined floor, when he noticed the look on her face. Her face was dirty and a little bloody from the shots he managed to land on her from the machine gun, but she was obviously in a lot of pain from something else. With her right hand, she gripped her green pants down her right leg, and pulled it up to just a little bit below her knee. She had an enormous, deep gash in her leg, and it was bleeding sheets of blood, soiling her dress and dirtying the ground under her. She was breathing hard and making pained whimpering with each breath, trying to keep her composure, but the splitting pain and the sight of her blood was making her lose herself.

She let go of her bunched-up, bloody dress to reach for her staff. Quote readied himself again, paying close attention to her every action; she heard him shift his feet noisily among the debris, and she looked up at him as she gripped her staff weakly. She looked hurt, she looked mad, she looked scared, but with her concentration so utterly shattered, it was clear she wasn't going to pick any more fights with him. She tapped the bottom end of the staff against the ground meekly, and the same blue light engulfed her, instantly warping her out of the room.

He kept his sword at the ready. After a hit like that, he didn't really expect Misery to recover immediately and keep the battle going until one of them was assuredly dead, but he wasn't sure what to watch for from a woman that could seemingly bend the space around her. He stood tense for a minute, his ears listening for any movement, and his eyes paying close attention to the slightest fidget in the room, looking for anything that might tell him Misery was still there and was preparing another strike. He was finally convinced that he was alone in the room after an uneventful few moments. He sheathed his sword and began looking over the room for his dropped machine gun. Fortunately, it was only half-buried in the debris of the ruined room, its butt-end sticking up from between two heavy clods of rock it was wedged between. Its bright red stood out easily from the dull brown of the dirt.

Having had a chance to calm down, he slowly became aware of all the wounds he had been accumulating. His cuts from that last cave still hadn't healed over, and he wasn't sure if they were ever going to. His ankle still hurt, although it was already beginning to feel better. His arms were tired and it was a little more difficult than it should have been to dig out his weapon, but all the same, he managed to unearth the other half and wrap the shoulder strap over his right shoulder. Since Misery said she didn't know where Balrog was, the only obstacle between him and the Doctor was a single flight of spiral stairs. It was conquered easily enough.

The second room was almost exactly like the first room in its shape: large and flat with a flight of stairs spiralling upwards in the other side. The same wall from downstairs was still missing, replaced with an enormous chain-fence – he wondered what the possible purpose for it could have been. But unlike the downstairs room, there were cages lining the walls all over, forming a sort of box around the rest of the room. Some were resting on the floor; some were suspended from the ceiling above; some were stacked one on top of the other. They weren't especially large individually, only about four metres high and across, and their only feature were the iron bars that replaced the one wall that faced into the room.

Each cage held at least three Mimiga of all ages and sizes and even some of different fur colours; some held many more than that. He looked into some of them as he walked past, seeing if he could recognize any of them. The only ones he really knew that were still alive were Jack, Mahin, Sue, and Kanpachi, but he didn't see any of them among the crowds. He recognized some of the dirty, ripped farm clothes from some of them in the Plantation, and he managed to catch sight of the same four young Mimiga from Curly's orphanage, but he didn't know any of them by name. A hushed stir began to rise in the room as they saw Quote climb the stairs – many of them pointed fingers and talked to their cellmates in whispered excitement as he strode past, speculating just what he what he had in mind and what he was going to do, as well equipped as he was.

In the far end of the room, just before the stairs, was a long, flat table, chiselled expertly out of stone with many emblems and insignias along its thick base. Vines were sprouting from underneath the table, climbing up and around its heavy bottom, and at their tips they each bloomed the same familiar red flower as the Sand Zone. Standing at the edge of the table, facing away from him, was a man in a long white coat, a peculiar hunch in his back, and a tall blue helmet upon his head. Quote drew his machine gun from his right shoulder, his muscles aching and groaning with each flex, reminding him of just how tired he was. He didn't plan on giving him the same courtesy he gave Misery earlier, and stopped when he knew he was in range, raising his machine gun's sights to his eye.

He heard the Doctor give a low, menacing chuckle as he approached; over what, he didn't know, and didn't really care at the moment. "It's done!" he laughed, straightening his posture and bringing his arms back to his sides. His hands were visibly shaking in giddiness. The Doctor turned to face Quote – he looked exactly as Quote had last gotten a good look at him in the Sand Zone's storehouse, right down to the gleam in his glasses and the grin on his mouth. Quote's finger tightened on the trigger, ready start firing with just a quick pull.

"Administering red flowers to a Mimiga causes it to fly into a violent rage," he began, looking right at Quote but ignoring his weapon entirely. "The reason for this, in fact, is quite simple, really. The flowers contain a not only a substance that draws out one's aggression, but also crushes one's very faculties of reason. Ever since I got those seeds, I had been busy here, working hard on finding, extracting, and concentrating that substance, and thanks to the time Misery bought me, I've been successful. Would you like to see it?"

Quote didn't think the Doctor was lying when he said that he had only arrived a few minutes too late to stop whatever he was doing, although the realization didn't sit very well with him. The moment the Doctor turned around to retrieve whatever was lying on his table, Quote opened fire, each airy shot fired from his gun hitting the Doctor dead-centre – although, each hit seemed to vanish into nothing before it could hit the Doctor's body, just like the shields Misery had conjured. He couldn't see what was causing it, though. Had the Doctor expected the onslaught, and set up some kind of aura around himself that absorbed the hits?

"Now, now," the monster said calmly once Quote released the trigger, "we'll get to you soon enough. No need to cut in line." He lowered his aim, looking over the Doctor's coat to see if it had any of the telltale burns anywhere on it. Not so much as a scratch. "As I was saying," the Doctor continued without missing a beat, turning back around to face Quote. In his right hand was a large ruby, the size of his head – it seemed to pulsate an eerie red glow in his hand, as if it was synchronized with his heartbeat. "The substance I had concentrated from the red flowers can be seen in the physical form of this red crystal. Unlike the flowers, which can only affect Mimiga because of their weaker immune systems, this crystal will affect humans as well. And hey, I'm no expert in magic or sorcery, but who knows? It might just work on robots as well." He looked back towards the crystal, his toothy grin faltering for only a moment as he stared deep into it, seemingly mesmerized by its sheen.

"It's wondrous…" he murmured, almost totally captivated by the crystal, his eyes watching the gleam of the crystal's hard surface pulsate. "I somehow doubt you truly appreciate the splendour of this achievement." The crystal levitated from his hand, and, surreally, began to orbit around his body, the same way Misery had made her spells circle around hers. His body became cloaked in the crystal's light, bathing him in a light-red tinge that covered him from the tip of his crown to the bottom of his shoes. "Allow me to demonstrate."

In a blink, the Doctor had disappeared from where he was standing, in a light-red flash of light, with only the crystal remaining. Quote replaced his machine gun across his shoulder, knowing that it probably wasn't going to be doing so well against the man here. He stepped forward to where the Doctor was as he simultaneously reached for his missile launcher, switching on the high-tech scope. It was fully loaded since before the Plantation, and he'd been itching to finally use it on the man.

The Doctor wasn't reappearing anywhere in front of him, but the red crystal quickly hovered over his shoulder, towards the rear of the room. He followed it, keeping his weapon raised and his eye through the sight. It locked onto the crystal itself, displaying an estimated time between launching a missile and collision, thankfully not tracing onto any of the Mimiga in the cages at the same time. He didn't know if that was a feature or a mistake or what, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about any of the missiles locking onto the wrong target.

The Doctor reappeared in the air, just a short distance away from the steps, and promptly, gracelessly, fell back to the ground. He raised his hand, running his palm across the red crystal as it reunited with him, and, without any incantation or spell, the crystal pulsated once more, sending a visible wave of red energy soaring through the air towards him. It gyrated vertically and unpredictably as it approached, making it difficult to time to avoid, but with a spring of his strong legs (eliciting a painful spark from his ankle), he managed to clear the wave without any injury, quickly retaliating by lifting his missile launcher and launching a few the moment he ran the scope over the Doctor's body.

It was the first time he really had a chance to see the new launcher work its magic since he got it way back in the Labyrinth. The targets on the scope flashed a menacing red when he pressed that button, the many numbers on the screen quickly ticking down as a small volley of missiles were sent on their way. The Doctor was keeping up, of course; he simply raised his hand, and the red gem on his crown began to glow its own spooky red. Within an instant, each missile began to detonate in the air, the earliest one only a few feet away from its destination. Because of the missile's size and design, most of their damage was supposed to be derived from the actual impact rather than the proximity of the explosion, and as a result, the Doctor only felt a slight rush of hot wind from the bursts. He quickly warped away, on top of one of the stacks of cages, the red crystal following close behind.

Quote kept his aim on the Doctor, but couldn't fire any more missiles – aside from the Doctor likely just batting them out of the sky again, he might hit the Mimiga cage, and by extension the Mimiga themselves, if he did. He had to think quickly; his machine gun was pretty useless against the Crown, since they'd just get absorbed into some kind of ether that was wrapped around the Doctor's body like a protective cocoon. He figured that the missiles might still have a chance to do some damage if he could catch the Doctor unawares, but there wasn't much chance of that unless the Doctor himself made a screw up somewhere.

Just as the crystal came back to orbit around him, he extended his hand and rubbed the glass-smooth side of it once again, sending out another pulsating wave of the energy. It extended across the sky, missing him entirely at first, but just as the wave reached the other wall, it descended down towards him, covering the air in a type of sheet as it approached the ground. It was quick, but it was thin; a simple side-step got him out of the way, and the Doctor once again disappeared from sight. The crystal told Quote exactly where the Doctor was going to reappear again; he didn't know if the Doctor knew the crystal was giving him away like that.

It seemed like a fairly simple game of cat-and-mouse so far to Quote. Given Curly's stories about how the bearer of the Crown was hitting them with attacks they could hardly imagine much less anticipate, he was expecting the Doctor to do something incredible, like bend the very space around him, or control his limbs with hardly a movement, but so far, nothing of that sort. Had the Doctor simply not figured out how to use the Crown effectively? He was lucky, if that were the case.

The Doctor reappeared on top of the table he was working on earlier, and with the same movements, he sent out yet another simple wave of red energy for him to avoid. He had near-infinite power at his hands, with a gem that could amplify his own abilities by several times, and the most he could think up was a single, simple-but-unpredictable wave of the same energy every time, followed by teleporting himself to some other area of the room. It was hardly a physical fight, and more like a high-stakes game of attrition between the two. Given how the Doctor could simply push away each of Quote's efforts with a wave of his hand, though, he was currently winning.

The Doctor caught onto his own pattern, apparently, and mixed in something else: after warping away from yet another of his similar attacks, he reappeared floating in the air, in a curled ball, clutching his stomach as if he were in pain. Quote saw the window of opportunity and raised his missile launcher once again, the scope quickly locking on and readying the weapon to fire with the press of a button. Before he could, the Doctor unfurled himself explosively, straightening himself out and, at the same time, unleashing a spherical wall of the same red energy in a quick, massive blast. The sphere was more like a series of short, quick lines, like lasers, that bounced off of everything that they hit. Quote's first concern was the Mimiga in the cages; if one of those lasers bounced their way between the bars and into one of their cages, they wouldn't be able to dodge away. He wasn't confined to the narrow, cramped space of one of those boxes, and he was having enough problems dancing and flexing his way between each of the shots, some of them narrowly grazing his shirt or nearly knocking the hat off his head. He didn't have eyes on the back of his head, however, and one of them had rebounded off the wall behind him, coming back to strike him in the back.

He didn't feel any pain from the strike, peculiarly, but the moment he felt the blow, his vision was instantly distorted and undecipherable; his eyes filled with a grey, lifeless static, devoid of any shape or colour. He saw various blacks, whites and greys, all in thousands and thousands of dots and pixels, all jumbling around without direction in his eyes as they were literally taken offline from the hit. At the same time, he felt an unfamiliar burning sensation in his head, and he decided that he didn't like it. In fact, he hated the feeling; his confusing eyes and his burning head began to make him angry, causing him to thrash about mindlessly in his rage, not caring who or what he struck just as long as he could get the pain to stop.

Just as quickly as they were brought offline, his vision came back to him in a blink, but everything was in a colourless grey. He could make our the Doctor hovering in the air just a little distance away, that crystal still swinging around his body as if it were an excited moon to his planet. At the same time, his vision was beginning to cloud with words: simple lines of text that typed themselves into the bottom of his vision at a rapid pace, and with each completed line, the page of text would push itself up and cover more of his sight. The text said a lot of nothing to him at the moment – all he was concerned about was lighting up the Doctor. He lifted his missile launcher, and, without thinking clearly, pressed the launch button several times, the hot, refreshing feeling of the missiles firing over his shoulder and towards his opponent.

The scrolling text in his eyes continued, but after only a moment, all the colours of the room began to ease back in, replacing the monochrome from before. The painful heat in his head slowly eased up as well as he recovered, and as it left, so did his rage, clearing his mind once more. The Doctor was right, at the beginning: he had somehow made the red crystal so potent that it could affect robots as well, and for a moment there, he experienced what it was like to fall under the rage it induced in its victims.

The Doctor had easily intercepted each of the missiles he had fired in his fury, that grin on his face widening further after seeing Quote's pathetic display as he vanished once again from the Crown's magic. He was about to drop the missile launcher's sights to follow the crystal some more, when he noticed a peculiarity with the scope's radar. There were many, many blips all being highlighted at once, and all of them were from the scared Mimiga surrounding the room. But there was one blip that moved quickly from one end of the radar to the other – faster than he could remember seeing anything run. He followed the blip as it moved separately from all the others, knowing that it could have only been two things that could have made the radar display what it was, and the red crystal was following too far behind to have possibly been it. He looked up when it had stopped moving, seeing the Doctor stand on top of another stack of cages as he extended his hand once again, ready to make another swing with his red magic.

Quote couldn't ever catch the Doctor with his guard down because he moved to quickly and unpredictably for him to get a shot in. Knowing where the Doctor would reappear was easy enough with the crystal following him like a puppy, but it would move too slowly for him to react in time. If he followed the radar instead, he might just have a chance.

The Doctor reappeared just next to the staircase leading to the floor below, and let off another of his predictable waves. A simple leap away and the attack was dodged easily, followed by the man disappearing once again to jump to another spot and try the same strategy over again. His eyes were firmly on the scope, however, rather than the red crystal this time. The only blip that moved that quickly flew right up to the centre of the radar, veering just to the right a little. Quote glanced to his right; there was the same stack of cages, each with a handful of Mimiga, and each of them in the cage on the floor flinched and whimpered when they saw him looking in their direction. There wasn't much else the Doctor could have reappeared except for on top of the stack; with a powerful kick, he flung himself as high as he could and got the Booster to carry him the remainder of the distance.

The red crystal was floating high up in the air, meeting Quote halfway and travelling with him up the cells, confirming where the Doctor was going to reappear. The moment he cleared the top of the final cell, he just picked a spot towards the wall over the roof of the final cage and began unloading, waiting for the Doctor to rematerialize right into his fire.

Two of his missiles passed through nothing and collided with the wall harmlessly, but the third and onward made direct contact with the Doctor as he reappeared just to the left of Quote's aim. A minor adjustment wasn't a hassle, and each missile he fired from then on hit the man dead-centre. Quote couldn't see his face through the small explosions, and he doubted the Doctor had the breath or the reaction to begin hollering in pain, but he could clearly see the blue helmet over the cavalcade of munitions, and the scope of his missile launcher had locked onto something that wasn't the crystal. He knew he was ripping the guy apart with each successful hit.

Finally, the Booster had enough and couldn't stay up any more, dropping Quote back to the floor. He still had some missiles left to use, but he was too close to the cages to risk firing any more, if he didn't want to catch any of the Mimiga in his shots. He could hear the Doctor moaning in pain, although…it didn't really sound like he was moaning because of the missiles he had just taken. His throaty noises sounded less like the tired, defeated groans a person makes when he's been beaten; they sounded more urgent, like something was happening painful was happening to him from the inside, and he couldn't bear to keep it in. Quote kept his missile launcher pointed straight up, watching for either the Doctor to show himself over the edge, or for the red crystal to tell him that he had warped someplace else, or for his radar to say that something was moving very quickly. His pained yelps deepened and got more aggressive as seconds ticked away with no sign of movement.

Quote considered firing the Booster back up to take a look, when a large, unsightly hand crept over the edge of the cage, gripping onto the edge, followed by another. The Mimiga in the cage that he was grasping each yelped and cried in surprise, the sound of their little feet running across the cold metal to the back of their cell. The ceiling above them depressed under a sudden strain, and the sound of a body crawling itself harshly across its surface grated loudly on their ears. The Crown came into sight, followed quickly by the Doctor's face; his entire body had gained quite a bit of size all around, making him a few feet taller and his muscles took on a tangible amount of definition. His face had mutated into some kind of toothless monstrosity: his nose had extended and scrunched, looking like a pig's snout, and his cheekbones had risen to begin covering his eyes – his irises had turned blood-red, and his chin had elongated with his nose to make a peculiar cone-like shape. The Crown also seemed to grow in size to accommodate the Doctor's larger head, surprisingly.

He said no words – Quote didn't know if he could still speak at all – as he launched himself from the top of the cage using only his arms. His shoulders and biceps had taken on a very muscular appearance, each bulbous muscle nearly the size of Quote's head, and his hand had inflated practically to the point where he could easily crush his whole body if he managed to catch Quote in his grip. His legs had beefed themselves up proportionately; his feet had grown far beyond what their shoes could contain and he tromped about barefoot. His lab coat, and his undershirt, were all torn and destroyed from the onslaught, although his tough, chiselled skin and hardened six-pack abs hardly seemed scratched underneath.

The new Doctor soared gracelessly through the air, hitting the far iron bars on the other side of the room with a resounding thump, denting the bars and caving the walls they were attached to from the impact, frightening the Mimiga inside. He clung to the bars like a spider, gripping the steel hard enough in his hands to cripple the metal, before dropping back down to the floor onto his feet, causing another loud boom and shock through the walls from the landing.

The Doctor stood, staring at Quote, although he seemed perplexed rather than aggressive at first. He looked over his hands, frowning at how ugly they looked, but his eyes trailed from his wrists to his elbows to his shoulders, marvelling at each muscle. He gave an approving chuckle as he flexed his arms and legs, feeling the pure, raw strength his body now had to offer. His laugh was thick and low and almost sounded forced, as if he couldn't laugh naturally anymore.

Quote's sights were still kept on the Doctor, but he didn't want to risk pressing the button since the Doctor was standing right in front of the Mimiga cages, and a single missed shot might be disastrous. The red crystal loyally hovered back down to the Doctor and began to circle around his enormous form again, and once the Doctor saw it, he disappeared from sight, warping to another part of the room, the crystal adjusting its flight path accordingly.

Quote expected him to teleport to a distant area of the room, or on top of one of the stacks of cages once again, like he had been doing. But instead, the Doctor reappeared only a few feet away from him, and before he could react or retreat, the Doctor gave him a devastating left hook practically to his whole body. Quote had taken hard hits before, but with the Doctor's impressive new strength, he was lifted right off his feet and sent soaring into the bars of one of the ground-floor cages, dropping his missile launcher the moment he was hit. His back hit them with a harsh clang, but at the moment he felt more disoriented than in pain.

"Look out!" he heard one of the Mimiga inside the cage shout. He straightened his focus, trying to pinpoint where the Doctor was. Charging right for him, one heavy foot hitting the ground in front of the other with inhuman force, was the Doctor's solid mass of muscle, his right fist reared back over his shoulder, ready to strike again. He was still dizzy from the last hit, but he knew well enough to run away before his circuits were wrapped around his knuckles. With a quick dash to the left, he avoided the haymaker; the Doctor's huge fist instead hit two of the iron bars, immediately snapping them in half and throwing the broken remains into the cage from the force, leaving a sizeable gap between the other bars. He couldn't tell from his angle, but he hoped the Mimiga inside the cage were okay.

The missile launcher was too far away for him to risk diving for it, so, with few other options, he drew his sword once again, Misery's blood still dripping from its edge. He imagined himself in King's position in the storehouse: against an opponent easily three times his size, armed with just the sword, and still managing match it blow-for-blow with an impressive show of swordsmanship and dexterity. He knew he was a novice with the sword in comparison, but with his machine gun useless against the Crown, he didn't have a lot of alternatives and squared bravely against the man as he began to charge towards him once again.

The sword was held tightly in each hand, his metal joints straining as they nervously put more and more force into his grip. The Doctor was getting close again, too close for his comfort, but he remained still, intent on trying to mimic King's style. The Doctor took a short hop in the air once he got within a few metres of Quote, both hands together over his head and both of them coming back down when he did, hammering into the floor with all the force he could muster.

His body might have been enhanced beyond either of their expectations – and it looked like he managed to keep his mind in the process, unlike a frenzied Mimiga – but that didn't mean he learned how to fight with the transformation, fortunately for Quote. The sting from the last hit rattled his head and hurt his back from the collision with the cage, but he could still read the Doctor's moves and intentions well ahead of time. Before the Doctor landed, Quote evaded to his left, bringing the silver blade up as he moved, across the Doctor's strong bicep, and then quickly back down, across his shoulder. The sword made both hits, but they felt as though they hit solid brick instead of flesh.

The Doctor's balled fists hit the floor with a resounding boom, rattling the cages and breaking a hole in the floor with just his own power. His arm was cut open where the sword had landed, but he didn't move like he had felt anything more than just a sting. He spun around, facing Quote again, and charged again, swinging both his arms heavily with his stride. Quote made short hops back, trying to keep his distance while he thought up a new strategy to use against the giant man. He skipped right over his missile launcher, not noticing it until it was too late.

The Doctor was keeping up with Quote; every time he'd get close enough, he'd make a swipe with his arms, sometimes open-handed, obviously without any practice or direction, much like how Toroko had fought when she was frenzied. Little drips of blood ran down his flexed muscles from the cuts Quote had made, but his movements didn't slow at all. They continued as they were; the Doctor approaching and making a hard swing, narrowly missing Quote as he leapt back to widen the distance some more, until his back was to the table at the end of the room. The Doctor came in, both his hands wide open and closing in, about to make a thunderous clap against Quote's body and cutting off both sides of his escape. Thinking quickly, he hopped backwards, onto the table just as the Doctor's enormous hands came together, the room erupting with sound as the loud slap echoed off the walls. Quickly, Quote jumped forward, right over the Doctor's extended hands, swinging the sword below his feet to slice open the man's skin as he passed overhead. He managed to get a cut across the backs of his right hand and across both his forearms, and he would have gotten the man in the skull if the Crown didn't get in his way.

He started up the Booster for that extra push away from the Doctor on his descent, trying to increase the gap between them some more. He looked over his shoulder once he thought he was safe enough, to see that the Doctor wasn't there, and that the red crystal was on its way just past him. Just as he realized his mistake, he felt the Doctor's large fingers wrap around both his legs at once and brought him back down the floor. The Booster gave out once Quote's foot was held still, swinging him helplessly down as the Doctor beat him against the ground like a club once, and then swinging him up across his shoulder, winding up to toss him across the room with all his strength.

Quote managed to keep a hold on his sword the whole time, but dropped it once he hit the spiral staircase on the other side of the room with enough force to chip the stone. He grunted and groaned as he lay on his stomach at the foot of the steps, trying to pick himself up onto his hands and knees, to keep fighting, but his entire body felt as though it were on fire from the pain. His ears rang and his mind was unfocused, unable to think any single thought at one time. His bones and muscles creaked and tightened as he tried to stand; he needed to get back onto his feet, to keep fighting the Doctor. He hadn't come all this way for nothing, but he simply couldn't muster the strength. "Get up," he heard a Mimiga say somewhere, although whether the voice was near or far was beyond his immediate grasp. "He's coming, man, you need to get up, or he'll kill us all."

He could still move his arms and his legs, incredibly, but each limb felt as though it was under hundreds of pounds of pressure, and any movement at all was a chore. Lifting his head from the floor was difficult; his shoulders were bruised and his neck was strained. The sound of the Doctor's footsteps were the only thing he could really define in his state, his eyes searching across the ground and he tried so hard to at least sit up to see the man's bear feet, each step thumping loudly in the air. He wasn't running to Quote to finish him off, as he expected, but he seemed to be _strolling_ towards him, as if his victory was all but assured by this point. And with how much difficulty Quote was having with just lifting his head, it might just be.

Quote reached for the hilt of the sword with his right hand, trying to get a grip on it before the Doctor got too close. He was nowhere near the blade, though, and he wasn't able to pick himself up and crawl himself to it. The Doctor stood motionless in front of Quote for a moment, between him and his sword, letting himself bask in the feeling of his victory and his godlike strength – he accomplished what Balrog, nor Misery, nor even the Core could accomplish by finally beating the android soldier from the surface. He had to admit to himself that he could understand why the soldier seemed so unbeatable: it learned and thought like a human, and had all the precision and reflexes that he expected a combat android to have. His new gift from the red crystal was a blessing, in a way – if he hadn't had the boost, the soldier probably would have gotten the better of him.

But he wasn't so high on power that he thought he could entertain himself by stringing the soldier along. He bent down, picking up Quote with a surprisingly gentle left hand wrapped around his entire waist, lifting and turning the robot upright in the air so they could look each other in the eyes. Quote was dirty, torn, ragged, and beaten, and could hardly stand to look the monster in his half-shut eyes. The Doctor's clothes were in much worse shape than his, and his arms and shoulders were bleeding in numerous places, but it was obvious who the victor was either way. The Doctor made some kind of low growl as he stared his defeated opponent down, conveying a sort of unfriendly congratulation for making it this far.

The Doctor placed his other enormous hand over Quote's skull, his entire palm easily wrapping around Quote's head and flattening his cap against his scalp. With a simple clockwise twist, he was going to pop the robot's head off like a cap from a bottle, and that'd be the end of that. He could feel Quote struggle against his vice-grip, pressing and squirming against his fingers, and he derived a sort of sick pleasure from feeling the helpless kicking and clawing robot try to keep fighting in his position with his strength.

Just when Quote really thought he had bitten it this time, the Doctor removed his hand from Quote's skull. He had regained enough focus for him to understand what was going on around him, but the reason why the man hesitated was still unclear to him at the moment. "Let him go!" he heard someone yell, and suddenly he saw a small, green object fly through the air from a high angle, hitting the Doctor in the cheek. It bounced off him harmlessly, but it got the Doctor's attention. In one of the cages, stacked up high on top of the others, was an adult Mimiga gripping the iron bars to his cage with both his hands. "You monster! You killer! Let him go!" he shouted, lifting his right leg up to his hands so he could toss his other shoe.

The Doctor was about to respond by tossing Quote as hard as he could against the cage, when he felt something else hit him in the neck. He turned around, looking down to see a simple button from a shirt rolling across the ground. He looked up, spying the cages to see who had the audacity to throw something at him, and seeing a younger Mimiga pulling each button off his shirt one by one to repeat his offensive.

The first throw sparked a wave of courage in the other Mimiga; after seeing their potential hero get downed so harshly and their captive about to put an end to their last chance of escape, they all got the same idea to pitch in and help Quote however they could. They each threw all they could spare – shoes, belts, house keys, hats, shirts, bracelets, lipstick, necklaces, anything they were carrying – as hard as they could at the Doctor, each of them shouting obscenities and curses at the Doctor all the while. None of them knew what was going to come next or what they would do once they all ran out of things to throw, but that wasn't as important as getting Quote free right now.

None of what the Mimiga threw really fazed the Doctor physically; they each just bounced off his skin harmlessly. He could hardly feel them strike him at all. But it was the principle of the matter: he was their new master and leader. He had worked hard and pulled so many strings to get to his status as ruler of the island, and he alone had risen to such incredible power using the Crown and the red crystal in tandem. They should fear and revere him, not throwing their everyday baubles at him like he was some kind of bottom-rate trash. When one of the Mimiga's thrown earrings managed to get him in his eye, he _really_ started to get mad. He'd rip open the bars on each individual cage and break each and every paw he found before subjecting them to the crystal and rewiring their destroyed minds.

He had dropped Quote in surprise after he felt the sting of the earring in his eye, reflexively bringing both hands up to rub the pain away. When he managed to open his eyes once more, he saw three Mimiga each standing in the centre of the corridor; they were in the cage he had snapped the bars in half from when he transformed, and the open space between the bars was more than enough for them to squeeze through. Two of them held the large, orange missile launcher up, the missiles pointed right at the Doctor, while the third one was desperately searching for a way to fire them.

"He's looking right at us," one of the two Mimiga holding the weapon said worriedly. "Hurry up and find the switch!"

"I'm looking, I'm looking!" the third one said franticly, her paws running over the missile launcher's buttons and levers, trying to find one that would shoot one of them like they had seen Quote do earlier. There weren't a whole lot of buttons on the weapon to begin with, but none of them were clearly labelled and her eyesight wasn't great anyway. "They all look the same to me!"

"Just press any of them, Chaco!" said the other Mimiga, trying to keep the weapon steady and pointed squarely at the Doctor, who was now beginning to run towards them. "He's coming right for us!"

The booming sound of the monster's footsteps was enough to confirm that. He could have teleported next to them, but he wasn't thinking clearly between his rage at the Mimiga and the need to intercept those three with the weapon. She just pressed any button and flicked every switch she found – among turning the scope on and off, she did manage to find the button that launched a single missile from the weapon. It flew forward with incredible speed, locked right onto the Doctor's incoming body, and collided full-force with him, stopping him dead in his tracks as he recoiled from the blast. "Keep doing that!" one of the other Mimiga said, and Chaco complied, simply pressing the same button over and over, launching missile after missile, and the Doctor was too busy reeling from the first hit to dodge any of the others.

They couldn't tell if the missiles were actually doing anything other than slowing him down, though. He was still standing once Chaco stopped pressing the button (stopping before the weapon ran out entirely), his clothes tattered and his chest was torn open badly. He was in poor shape, but he kept going all the same, his mind clouded with vengeance against the critters that defied him his position as their king. He began picking up the pace again, charging towards the three – they weren't worth turning into frenzied soldiers, he decided, and it would have been better if he just killed them all right there.

His own heavy footsteps drowned out of the sound of quick, lighter ones from behind him, awkwardly dashing up to his back as quickly as they could lopsidedly run. Just as he began to start jogging towards the Mimiga, he felt a sharp, penetrating sting in his upper back, just between his shoulder blades. The strike powerful thrust had pierced into his spine, cutting into his bones. He couldn't turn around to see Quote holding onto the other end of the sword jutting out of his back; in fact, he found he couldn't move at all, and all he could feel all over his body was pain.

The Doctor let out an inhuman, low, shrill shriek once he could register the pain firing all over. The pierce he felt in his back began to bleed profusely, only he didn't bleed blood, oddly: it looked like blood, but the colour was too light, and it almost seemed buoyant as it shot out of his body, seemingly hovering momentarily in the air before falling to the ground. And it didn't splash, or pool, like a normal liquid, but instead it seemed to just disappear the moment it hit the ground.

The Doctor's scream was cut awkwardly short; Quote looked up at the man to find that he seemed to be evaporating into the same odd liquid that was pouring out of his back. His Crown disappeared with the rest of him, along with his skin, his hair, his eyes and nose and ears, all the way down to his feet. None of it splashed onto the ground or all over him, and it all just vanished the moment any of it collided with something solid. Only his clothes and his shoes remained, which Quote found odd, since the Crown melted away with the rest of him.

The sword fell to the ground with a clang as the metal bounced against the stone once the Doctor evaporated, and the red crystal flew away once its bound host had vanished. The entire room was silent as they all saw the monster disappear, the heap of his laundry among all the trinkets and accessories the Mimiga had thrown at him the only thing remaining to prove that he even existed at all. The room was as silent as the night when the last of the Doctor's weird blood hit the floor and vanished, having witnessed a spectacular death for a horrible man. Once Quote remembered how much pain he was in, he slumped to his knees, exhausted, and in every cage, each Mimiga – possibly the island's entire population, each crammed into tiny boxes stacked on top of each other – began applauding raucously, clapping their paws and stamping their feet, elated whoops and congratulations shaking the very room once the Doctor disappeared for good.

The happiness and celebration in the room was nearly tangible, from one Mimiga to the other, knowing that the tyrant – the sole man responsible for all the sick science experiments and various kidnappings at random times and random places all over the island – was finally gone. Their earlier appreciation for the Doctor back in the Plantation had all but disappeared, probably once they saw what the red flowers did to Mimiga; Quote remembered seeing the two frenzied Mimiga outside of the mountain, and they had to have gotten there somehow. One cage of Mimiga broke out into a celebratory song: the lyrics were about the dangers of Mimiga life, and how a hero would come to their rescue from their turmoil. The song was probably about Arthur, originally, but Quote didn't mind. He had fulfilled his promise to King by putting an end to the Doctor. With his own sword, no less. He could only hope King was satisfied, having been avenged by an outsider, but avenged nonetheless.

The song spread to the cages surrounding it, and to the cages around those, until each cage was singing the same song in praise to their new hero, their collective voices carrying all throughout the mountain in cheer. The three Mimiga that had used the missile launcher dropped the weapon and began undoing the sliding locks on each of the cage doors, letting out every caged Mimiga to spill onto the floor. Some of them immediately head down the spiral steps to find their way home; some of them stuck around to pick up the belongings they had thrown at the Doctor in their desperate attack; but most of them crowded around tired Quote, lifting him onto their shoulders and surfing him along the crowds. None of them knew his name, but they cheered for their 'surface soldier' all the same. Many of them patted him on the shoulder in thanks, and many of them had all sorts of questions for him about where he learned to move the way he had and what he was thinking as he fought. He barely heard any of them over the general ruckus the crowd was making, though, and he was busy keeping his eyes peeled through the crowd, looking for Sue anywhere among the Mimiga, but he couldn't spot her blue sweater and her short body anywhere.

After parading him around the room once in a sort of victory lap, they set him back down where they had picked him up. One of them had picked up his sword and offered it back to him, and the two Mimiga that held the missile launcher gave that back to him as well. His machine gun hadn't left his shoulder the whole time, and with his sword back in its scabbard and his missile launcher back across his other shoulder, he was fully equipped once again. The missile launcher still had a dozen or so missiles left to use.

"What are you going to do next?" he heard someone ask. They all clamoured for his answer, huddling around him excitedly. Some of them wanted to go back to their own unique villages, or back to the Plantation, while others not-unkindly suggested he head back to his own home, wherever it was, and take a break. Many of them wanted to stay on the island, since a good deal of them had not known a hero like him in their generation, having succeeded Arthur by a good deal of time.

He answered by looking behind him, to the spiral staircase leading up and into the third floor of the mountain. He remembered what Kazuma had told him before he had scaled the outer wall: if he wanted to prevent something like this from ever happening to the Mimiga again – if he wanted to assure the safety of the rest of the world from the threat of an invasion from an army of frenzied Mimiga – he'd have to destroy the Core of the island. But he and Misery both said that doing that would cause the island to plummet from the sky…

He spotted the chip in the stone he had made when he was thrown against the steps, and it reminded him of just how much pain he was in. He managed to forget it for a while from being too wrapped up in the celebration and the cheering earlier to notice, but as he remembered that he still wasn't done, his injuries became apparent again. His torn skin still hadn't healed over, and he was still aching all over from the hits he had taken just a few minutes ago. At least his ankle didn't hurt from his encounter with Misery anymore, or else it was just so slight compared to the rest of him that he just didn't notice.

Quote glanced back to the crowd, motioning towards the staircase, to confirm his answer their question. Some of them pleaded for him to stop and rest; he was nearly broken, and he had taken such a terrible beating for their sakes already, although none of them knew just what was waiting for him at the end of those stairs. Others understood that he had a mission, and putting an end to the Doctor was just one of his many objectives to complete. He turned around, keeping his stance as straight and as 'heroic' as he could, to assure the others that he was fine when he wasn't particularly. There was no handrail for him to grip as he climbed the flight, one step after the other, but it wasn't too much trouble without it. The throng of Mimiga still in the room cheered and applauded as he climbed the steps, chanting 'surface soldier' repeatedly as he went, letting him know that his sacrifices wouldn't go unrecorded for as long as Mimiga existed.

Their words and praises echoed far into the upper floor of the mountain, travelling with him with each step he took, echoing off the walls as he climbed. The grated half the mountain stopped very suddenly, finally surrounding the shaft he climbed in natural stone. The stairs went on for much longer than the last one, and the more he climbed, the more distant the chants became until they were nothing more than just whispers in the wind. The visibility darkened and dimmed considerably as he went, eventually blacking out entirely; keeping him from seeing the steps he was supposed to be walking. The sound of his footfalls were the only thing keeping him company as he continued in the darkness, feeling along the wall bumping each step with his heavy boot before climbing it to know there was still a step to climb.

Finally, there was a source of light at the end of the long staircase, letting him see where he was going as he continued. His injuries became less and less obvious as he went, his body becoming accustomed to the pain while he climbed, seemingly walking the pain away. He climbed the final step, allowing himself into the enormous room at the top of the mountain. The source of the light wasn't immediately obvious, but that wasn't his first concern: lining the walls were those smaller beasts he had fought with Curly in that heavily-defended core of the island. They looked exactly as he remembered them: the shape of an egg, large enough for him to stand on, with a small opening in one end leading into an opaque darkness. They seemed different, though; the moss that covered their bodies was a kind of light-blue instead of the traditional mossy green from the core. That, and, there were quite a bit more of them than just five.

In the very back of the room was the larger, main beast – the Core. It looked just as he and Curly had found it in the core of the island, from the dimples in its visible skin to the way the moss hung off its enormous egg-shaped body. The opening in its front was sealed in that same unsettling, toothless grin, showing very little of its pitch-black innards. Its size still intimidated him, no matter if it was active or if it was idle, but he approached the beast without pause, not allowing himself to falter now, of all times. With the Doctor dead and Misery gone, all he had to do was light the beast up, no troubles or snags, and he could be on his way. He brought his machine gun back over his shoulder and into his hands as he approached, ready to begin firing at the thing.

"That's far enough!" He stopped dead, surprised more than anything over hearing a voice in this room when he thought he was absolutely alone. He recognized the voice right away as well, and on cue, Misery warped herself into the room, hovering in the air between Quote and the beast. While her pants were still bloody, it was apparent that she had done something about the bleeding itself, although he couldn't see any bandage or cast wrapped around her leg under her clothes. Her hair was all out of shape and she was still bleeding in places across her face. She normally just let herself drop to the ground, her strong legs just shaking off the pressure from the landing, but this time she eased herself to the ground very gently. She was gripping hard onto her wooden staff, leaning on it for all its support when she landed, wincing in pain when she finally touched down.

Quote wasn't about to let Misery stand in his way of finally putting an end to all this. He would have felt guilty if this were anyplace or anytime else, but she was literally the only thing half-standing between him and the Core, and she didn't have the strength to stand under her own power. With the Demon Crown gone for good, she shouldn't be bound to the Doctor anymore either, so why was she till here, defending the man's ideals to the very end? He pointed his machine gun right at her, less as a threat and more as a warning: he'd rather anything else, _anything_, than to kill Misery, and he sincerely didn't want to pull that trigger, but he couldn't stop now.

The balled end of her staff began to glow that off-blue glow once again, and he expected a spell or some incantation or something for him to look out for. But instead of her conjuring up more animals for him to snipe down, or for her to change and adjust the very space around them, she simply warped in someone else, in front of her, unconscious. The short figure and the blue sweater immediately told him it was Sue.

"If you value her life," she grunted, still putting up with the pain, "then step away from the Core." She was gripping a fistful of Sue's fur of her head and putting more weight onto her staff as she spoke. He didn't know if she needed the staff specifically to cast spells, and his weapon was already raised, but he couldn't take the chance against Misery. Although he couldn't simply leave the Core, for now, it would be better to do as she said; he lowered his weapon and took a step back, eliciting a surprised smirk on Misery. "You're just a box of surprises, aren't you? Any other robot would have just shot through the girl to get to me."

Misery took a few hurried breaths, trying to keep her strength up. "I never would have dreamed that you," she paused, taking a few huffs, "that you would defeat the new king. Nobody's ever stood up to the Crown, let alone _succeed_. I've seen 'heroes' come and go, and fight the kings with all their strength, but you're the first to actually prove himself better." Quote sure felt inferior when the Doctor had him in his hands, ready to pull off his head, but he was the one still alive all the same. "I know to pick my fights," she continued, "so let me offer you a deal instead. You can go through both of us, destroy the Core, and die with the island once it smashes against the earth with you, and all the Mimiga and the Gaudi and the Drolls and your other human buddy-buddies still inside…" She was practically salivating venom with all the names she rattled off. "Or you can turn around, walk back down those stairs, and find some way to leave the island, never come back, and forget you ever came. If you do, I can guarantee this one's life. I don't know who she is and I don't really care, but you and all your human friends seem to find her important. Otherwise–"

The room suddenly began to tremble, very slightly; the beast and its smaller children weren't about to be dislodged from their secure holes in the walls, but it was still enough to rattle them on their feet. Misery nearly collapsed onto her knees, her stability uneven as it was. The tremor only lasted for a few seconds; once it passed, a disembodied, deep voice began to call from nowhere. _You shall not escape,_ it said, the voice sounding like it came from everywhere around them, broadcasting straight into their ears. It was unmistakably the Doctor's voice, although he sounded very…calm.

"Who's there?!" Misery demanded, looking around the room vainly to find whoever was speaking to them. She looked up and down, behind Quote and behind herself, but there wasn't anyone around other than the three already there. She knew that the voice belonged to her recently-deceased master, but she would really rather not believe it was actually him – he was dead in the ground, after all. The Crown alone didn't have the power to revive anyone, as far as she knew, or else the first king would still be alive.

The voice laughed, not sinisterly or in a demeaning way, but just amusedly. The voice had this ethereal echo to it; the sound repeated itself unnaturally late, each repetition a little lower in pitch than the last, adding a very surreal feel to the voice. _Have you really forgotten the voice of your master? _Behind Misery, a red cloud of some kind of buoyant liquid seeped up from the floor along with the red crystal itself, and began to collect itself in the air, taking a formless shape as the material seemed to spill upwards. Quote frantically pointed behind Misery, getting her attention: she turned around, and gasped in shock from what she saw. Not that she knew what she was seeing, but it was a wholly unnatural thing to see all together.

The voice laughed again, although this time it was very condescending once the entity saw Misery's expression. All the light-red blood-like liquid had finished collecting from the floor and began circulating in the air, each individual drop flowing freely among the rest of them in an enormous bubble. Sue began to blink her tired eyes open, although with the Doctor still 'alive' and in such an intangible form, she was all but forgotten to the other two. _The power of the red crystal is wondrous indeed,_ it remarked. _It imbues me with incredible strength and heals me when I am wounded. It fills me even now; my body may be destroyed, but my consciousness has never been more distinct._ Sue nearly called out to Quote, seeing him stand there just a few feet away, when she noticed his hard stare at whatever was behind her. She turned around, first noticing Misery and her bloody dress, but behind her was that fog of red, rotating and pulsating with each word it 'spoke'. She got the better idea to pick herself up and run behind Quote for protection. _It feels as if I have become a superman!_

Misery was furious at the Doctor – she was free for all of five minutes from the wearer of the Crown! She wouldn't have had to put up with the man and his total lack of empathy any longer now that he was dead and gone. She still remembered the sting of his hand on her when she brought back the wrong Mimiga from the village. She was counting down the days towards who died first, and she had won! She had _earned_ her right to be free from this man! She wanted to lash out, to strike the Doctor's essence with all the magic she could muster, her injury in her leg totally veiled behind her anger towards the Doctor.

Neither of them spoke for a moment – the Misery was too angry to speak, and the Doctor was gauging her reaction to his reanimation. _What's wrong, Misery?_ he asked. She could feel his eyes stare down at her, that omnipresent gleam in his glasses and his superior toothy grin etched into her mind now. The Doctor was different from all her other masters; she never felt like she was alone as long as he was in charge. Wherever she went, his shadow would follow, his paranoid need to be in control of everything, all the time, never giving her a moment's piece of mind. _Does my form frighten you?_ he continued, knowing exactly how she felt about him and how she resented him.

She didn't feel the controlling pull of the Crown from anywhere nearby, which meant that she was not bound to the Doctor any longer since he was not physically wearing it. "Why aren't you dead?!" she screamed the way only a scorned woman could scream. "Why won't you die?! Why won't you _leave_?!" She slammed the dull end of her staff into the ground between them, the balled end glowing a much deeper blue than normal as she let loose a flurry of the same black bubbles she had used against Quote earlier. The barrage was considerably more aggressive than what she had used against him, though, and continued for much longer. She vented her fury at the Doctor as best as she could, trying to strike away his new ghostly form, although each hit simply passed through the cloud harmlessly, bouncing off the beast's tough hide behind it.

_Tut-tut-tut_, he pronounced phonetically, having no tongue to click the way a parent disapproves of a child's actions. _A fool who would forget her own master does not deserve free will._ The cloud began to expand itself, covering a wider area than it was before. _Misery. You will be my puppet until the day you die._ With frightening speed, the cloud overtook Misery, wrapping her in its mist. She gave a frightened shriek once it overcame her, loosely trapping her in a spinning column of the red stuff. She tried some more spells and magic, frantically trying to get herself out of the whirlwind, but after only a few seconds, she felt herself begin to change. Her mind clouded and her voice deepened; like the Doctor, she began to grow in size from the red crystal's properties. She was naturally short and frail, so her transformation wasn't nearly as big and intimidating as the Doctor's. She nearly doubled in height and her arms and legs lengthened appropriately, but her muscles saw fairly little build. Her ears extended away from her head; her hair grew down to her back instead of her shoulders; each hand lost a finger; and she spontaneously grew a long tail just above her rear. Her most drastic change was to her face; she grew a bird-like beak and her nostrils disappeared into her upper lip, and her eyes practically disappeared into her sockets, making two black depressions in her skull.

Quote could see all these changes occur to her through the fog of the liquid, but was too freaked out from Misery's broken and discordant screaming to open fire on her before she could become a threat. Sue was just as shocked from the transformation, which did not occur slowly, but she came to her senses before he did. "Hey!" she yelled, tugging at his shirt to get his attention. "We gotta get out of here!" She pulled away from him and immediately ran for the stairs in the opposite side of the room. He hesitated – if he left now, he might not get another chance to destroy the Core. But against a 'frenzied' Misery and the Doctor still alive (in a sense), he had to admit that escaping would be the smarter option. He could maybe come back with Curly, and they could team against the Core, just like last time, and he could use the time to restock on missiles.

The red crystal flew past him as he turned to follow Sue. It immediately caught up with the small Mimiga and cut her off with itself, stopping her in her tracks. Its glow pulsated once in front of her, and she suddenly felt herself enraptured with the jewel, unable to move under its lustre. Quote began running towards her; he didn't want the crystal near _anybody_ after what it had done to the Doctor and what it was doing to Misery. But he was too late: Sue began to undergo her own unique transformation. Her body began to expand and elongate and shift under the red crystal's spell, although her transformed body looked decidedly unthreatening. Her tiny sweater couldn't contain her building body for too long, and ripped to shreds after only a few seconds. She retained her fur all over her body, except for her face and between her elbows and shoulders, revealing a dark tan skin underneath. She grew until she was only a little bit taller than Quote, compared to the gigantic Misery, who still wasn't done her own metamorphosis. Her ears looked a little jagged as she changed, but they otherwise generally looked the same. Her face looked extremely human: human nose, human mouth, and human eyes. Changing a Mimiga that was once a human must have that effect on the crystal. Sue's transformed self looked nearly _cuddly_ compared to what he expected her to turn out as.

Quote began swatting at the red crystal, trying to shoo it away before it could do something even worse to any of them, but the damage had been done. The cloud around Misery unfurled itself from her and reuniting with the red crystal before melting back into the ground as they had done before. She stood strong on both her legs; the cloud apparently seeing it fit to heal her injury before it finished changing her. She had dropped her staff to the floor before the change, and decided that she didn't really need it, simply leaving it there. The Doctor's voice rumbled through the room with a gleeful laugh, apparently very pleased with how Misery and Sue both went through their changes. _You're not leaving this place alive, boy!_ he shouted. His voice shook the Core awake – the familiar opening in its side slid open. Last time, in the core of the island, that opening revealed to Quote a series of blue eyes that stared back at him. This time, he saw an enormous red human skull; it had no flesh, no nose, and no eyes. The fleshy skin of the Core surrounding the opening indented between the sockets of his eyes, giving the bloody face a perpetual frown, and the face's mouth was locked permanently open. Quote had _no_ idea just what was inside the Core.

He stood between Sue on one side, with Misery and the beast on the other. The beast squirmed in its holding space in the wall, eventually sliding itself free with the same, shrill shriek that he remembered it made in the Labyrinth. Each of its many, many smaller children were awakened with the noise, each of them beginning to circle protectively around their 'mother'. He was tired; he was hurt; he was low on ammunition. He took all his odds and his poor position in stride: moving his machine gun to hold in his left hand so he could easily draw his sword with his right, he stood defiantly against them all, ready to fight. The Mimiga from the cages below had called him a 'hero' – it was time for him to be heroic.


	10. Chapter 10

Sue was closest; she attacked first, lunging right at him with both her hands extended. He raised his sword defensively, the broad side of the blade intercepting her swings. Without looking, he pointed behind him with the machine gun and started firing, hoping to at least clip Misery with a few shots. Sue kept swinging, the dull claws on her hands extended, trying to rip him open with every attack, but she wasn't trained for combat either so he read all her attacks easily and met each with a counter or a dodge. He didn't try returning the attacks, since she looked like she wouldn't be able to take a hit like the Doctor could.

Sue dove forward, trying to skewer Quote on her hands, but missed entirely as he stepped behind her, hitting her in the back with the butt end of the hilt on his sword. Misery was running straight for them both, taking every lucky hit from the machine gun as if they were nothing, and took a heavy swing of her own at Quote. He arched his back, thrusting himself away from her swing and responding with a swift kick into her belly with his left foot, followed by some more properly aimed, if unsteady, hits from his gun. She was quite a bit stronger than he was in this form, but his powerful legs still had formidable in them, causing her to reel from the attack. Sue collected herself from her failed offensive, spinning to her left with a hand outstretched, trying to clobber him in her blind swing. It was an easy duck, and he responded by thrusting the barrel of his gun into her shin and swiftly delivering a punch in the face from his right hand.

Between Misery and Sue, he felt his personal space being a little crowded, so he gave a strong leap and kicked the Booster awake just before he began descending. He sprayed the ground with his weapon, not aiming at either in particular and hoping he'd just tag them with a few hits here and there rather than beat on their skin with the shots. The airspace was littered with the smaller beasts that were constantly milling about the room, although unlike last time, they seemed to have a fairly one-track mind; last time they protected the Core with their own lives, separating rarely only to attack, but here they just moved in a constant back-and-forth way, not aiming for Quote or Misery or Sue and not actively circling around their 'mother'. The openings in their shells remained closed and their movements were very monotonous, as if they were lobotomized.

He kept up his fire, trying to avoid the smaller beasts as they floated about the room while he kept himself up. He spent too much time watching the beasts, though, and when he turned his attention back to Sue and Misery, Sue was up in the air with him: her transformation didn't give her much in the way of mass, but her bunny-like legs gave her the jumping ability of one. With an incredible bounce, she was zipping through the air in a straight line, aiming right for him with incredible speed. He pointed the Booster to his right, trying to evade the hybrid missile and twisting his body out of the way, but she still managed to get him in his shoulder. Luckily for him it was just a scrape compared to what it could have been; his grip on the machine gun remained tight.

With amazing agility, Sue reached up with both hands and absorbed her own impact against the ceiling, harmlessly bounding off that with just her arms and towards the far wall, where she performed the same trick with her legs and sprang herself back towards Quote, who couldn't keep up with her incredible speed. Neither could Sue, fortunately enough, and she found herself aiming too wide and zipping past him entirely, colliding with the larger beast's tough, mossy hide. She managed to keep herself steady, absorbing the weight of the impact with her arms again and gently falling back to the floor.

Misery wasn't doing nothing the whole time; while Sue took to the air against him, Misery was busy conjuring up more creatures and critters for Quote to square off against. Last time she could only conjure up four, at the most, before forcing herself to turn her attention to another spell. This time, she apparently didn't have the same handicap, and was able to make dozens of small, assorted creatures – from bats and bugs to rats and lizards – all at once with just a few waves of her hands and different clicks and sounds from her tongue. Once he landed, the Booster overheated for the moment, he was immediately swarmed by the critters, nipping at his ankles and biting at his skin. He managed to shoot some and chop others with his blade, causing them to disappear in a puff of dust, but he was busy with other problems too worry about the little distractions.

The beast was floating in the room the entire time, bobbing slightly under its own weight from whatever force was keeping it up. It would let out a loud bellow occasionally as the red skull on its inside would take some different position, sometimes rotating around to show only its forehead, and other times rotating around to show only its clenched teeth. Each time it roared, a small ball of orange magic energy would drip from the opening in its shell, and the energy would explode in a volatile show of force. Thankfully for Quote, the beast didn't seem to be aiming specifically for him; it seemed to just move back and forth across the room, its body being too big to turn or rotate, and would eject some more of the stuff with each bellow. Each roar was certainly loud, but he found himself too focused on the others to pay any attention to the noise, worrying himself over the little drops of explosions it was drooling instead.

Sue leapt back up to Quote, arms swinging and legs kicking as she tried to put up a fight. In his condition, a single hit would probably be the end for him, but with how widely she was swinging and winding up, he had no problem predicting her every movement and easily dodged many hits and countered others. But with Misery behind him, the creatures she was summoning all over the place, and the beasts floating about above him, his focus was divided. She made a powerful swing right at his head, which he dodged and responded by firing a few rounds into her foot. She leapt in pained surprise, quickly flicking out her other foot in offence, which he ducked, catching her foot between both his hands, forcing her onto her back as she fell down.

He spun around, activating the Booster as he flew for Misery, his machine gun firing at her as he went. She took several hits in the chest before whisking away in her blue glow, reappearing on top of one of the smaller beasts hovering around the room. She brought both her large, misshapen hands down to its skin, and they both became enveloped in the same aura; the beast flexed the opening in its face wide, and it suddenly broke its both-and-forth cycle, instead diving straight for Quote on the ground. It was as if Misery had somehow commandeered the creature.

Just as it began to skim the ground, Sue had launched herself back at Quote, her body flying through the air like a bullet as she had before. Quote kept his eyes on both; just before he could be hit by either, he leapt back, pushing himself farther with the Booster, clear out of the way from both of them and right underneath the Core. Sue couldn't adjust her flight, and Misery didn't see Sue in time to get out of the way as they collided with each other, Sue's devastating momentum easily slinging Misery off her ride as they fell over each other. Once they hit the far wall, Misery started barking some commands at Sue in a language he couldn't understand; Sue was yelling back as she pulled herself up, responding to each verbose accusation with her own. They began to argue with each other, their mutual enemy temporarily forgotten.

Quote happily took the opening to sheath his sword, so he could switch his machine gun to his right hand and flip his missile launcher over his shoulder and into his left. Running ahead of the Core and giving a strong leap into the air, he twisted around, steadying himself with the jetpack, and unloading a chunk of missiles right into the red skull in the beast's opening. Each missile landed on their mark easily, the blasts erupting inside its tough shell. It let out another roar; this time the pitch was higher and the volume was much louder, drowning out the sound of the explosions in its face. The smaller beasts didn't even seem to notice, but Misery and Sue stopped their own fighting long enough to remember who their opponent actually was.

Misery teleported next to him once he landed, his missile launcher already back across his shoulder and his sword drawn. She raised her glowing hand in the air, and soon the few bricks Quote was standing on began to rumble and move. He jumped forward in surprise just as the bricks levitated straight up, flattening themselves across the ceiling. He was met by Sue once more, her fist outstretched as she came in, aiming to belt him in the face. He tucked his head down and dodged to his left, his movements hasty and sloppy as he was caught off guard from the quick strike. He managed to miss the hit, although he found himself tripping over his own feet while he tried to keep his balance. He stayed upright, but with his back turned to the other two he was wide open for another hit.

Once he regained his control, he leapt forward, gunning the Booster in the direction he was facing as he flipped his body around (rotating the Booster's thrust appropriately), retreating from an oncoming Sue while he returned the fire with his machine gun. She was taking each blow to the body and she was recoiling with each hit, the shots beginning to mark her face and burn her fur wherever he concentrated his fire. He absolutely could _not_ kill Sue, and preferably not Misery, and he'd been aiming for non-lethal strikes the whole time, but they were certainly making it difficult for him.

He landed on his feet, his back against the wall of the room, and began jogging to his right, his left arm up and working the machine gun as best towards the two while he ran. In a flash, Misery disappeared and reappeared directly into his running path, which he hadn't expected. Using just her magic, she lifted him up into the air and flung him hard over her shoulder. He was spinning and twisting through the air as he went, unable to keep himself steady, his machine gun firing all the while as he went, hoping to hit something. Before he could hit the wall at this speed, he kicked on the Booster, his foot pointing towards his head – not that that meant anything, but any direction was better than none as he went. His trajectory began to widen and gyrate with the Booster's added influence, until his spins began to widen enough for him to clearly see where he was going. He wound up hitting the wall anyway, but thanks to his jetpack and his quick readjustments as he kept up with his wild spinning, he hit it fairly lightly compared to how hard he could have.

The skull in the beast had shifted positions, rotating itself so that the mouth of the face was in the opening. Its mouth was wide open, revealing two rows of startlingly human teeth and a realistic human mouth, but no tongue. The bottom of its throat began to light up as it charged an attack of its own, much like it had in the core of the island. He remembered the strength and ferocity of the attacks back then, and how devastating they were: one of them barely managed to snip him in the legs, and it felt as though they were crushed under some kind of incredible weight. If the beast was under any alternating spell like the other two were, he didn't want to even think about the strength the same attacks would have now.

Sue leapt laterally up from the beast, bouncing off the wall to the side and leaping on top of the beast itself from there. She gave a running start towards Quote, leaping off the edge of the beast and rotating herself around so that her stomach was towards the ceiling. Once her belly began to graze the stone of the ceiling, she reached up with her hands, launching herself off it with her arms and taking her the rest of the way straight towards Quote. He didn't know if she was a gymnast before coming to the island or if the skill was somehow natural and the red crystal just amplified it, but it was as impressive as it was frightening, seeing her spearhead towards him through the air like that. She must not have known that the beast was readying its own attack, and she was going to find herself right in its trajectory if she wasn't stopped.

Even with her speed, she was far enough away for him to be able to see it coming. Thinking quickly, he dropped the sword, letting the blade bounce across the ground so he could free his right hand, and dodged by firing the Booster's thrusters to his left, out of Sue's way. Like last time, she managed to absorb the impact against the wall by flexing her powerful arms and dispersing the energy through her body. Immediately on the recoil, he reached up and grabbed her by the ankle, giving her a hard overhand toss straight back to the ground. His jetpack overheated just as he let go, and not a moment too soon: the beast let loose a volley of huge blasts, as large as he remembered them, and they hit the rear wall with enormous force, shaking the room with their bursts and digging craters into the wall. If either of them were still in the air, they would've easily been vaporized.

Quote didn't know how he was going to manage to not only stop Sue and Misery from trying to tear him to shreds without killing them, but also destroy the Core at the same time. He probably wouldn't have the firepower to do it alone, now that he only had a handful of missiles remaining, and he doubted someone would come in and rescue him with miraculous timing again. He picked up the blade he had dropped, spraying shots towards Misery and Sue blindly, trying to think of something.

Sue took a moment picking herself back up, apparently a little bruised from the brutal life-saving whip against the ground, but Misery wasn't as slow, running right at Quote and leaping over Sue easily. She extended both hands as she practically galloped toward him, her wrists glowing blue, and he quickly found himself immobilized. With a flick of both her wrists, he was pushed back against the wall forcefully, causing him to gasp in pain, then flung back into the air. Misery teleported herself away, appearing on top of one of the smaller beasts again just as it passed underneath Quote, ready to catch him again with unfriendly arms.

He was fairly steady this time, his body remaining perpendicular in the air while he came back down. Misery had angled herself to be directly underneath him as he fell, readying either herself or some spell, but either way he didn't want to find himself wrapped in those grotesque arms of hers. He pointed his machine gun down and opened fire back onto her – the recoil of the weapon practically pushing him farther upward as he pulled – managing to distract her while he came back down, landing on the beast himself. Misery and the creature they stood on were both glowing blue, telling him that it was under her command again; hopefully, it'd mean she couldn't spare the focus for any more magic, but she could still fight physically.

She swung with her left hand, aiming for his body, which he managed to avoid by leaning back far enough to feel only the breeze of her swing against his clothes. She made another jab with her right, which he dexterously swung around, and retaliated by jamming the barrel of his gun into her chin, but not firing, afraid a strong hit to the neck would be fatal even with the red crystal's enchantment. He followed up with a jab of his own into her stomach, the blade held sideways, only briefly contacting her skin. She swung down, trying to squash the smaller opponent with her hand, but missing yet again as Quote ducked to his left. The beast they were standing on wasn't very huge; it didn't allow for a lot of open-ended manoeuvring as he'd prefer. Once Sue leapt up from the ground, bouncing powerfully off the flat ceiling and right onto the living platform with the other two (the force of the impact causing the beast to sharply dip in altitude), his movements became even more restricted.

Misery kicked forward with her left leg, which he managed to sidestep. Sue tried a left uppercut, narrowly missing as he arched his back. She tried kicking forward, her foot barely sliding off his skin as he spun clockwise to avoid it. Misery tried sweeping under his feet with her own right foot, which he managed to simply step over but was nearly caught by surprise by her long, unnatural tail. Whatever they tried to do to get in a hit, he'd manage to see ahead and find a way to dodge, if by the skin of his teeth, but they were going too quickly for him to get any counterattacks in. He couldn't risk trying to evade by jumping off the beast, because he was sure Sue would be able to match him whichever way he went, and it'd cost him more than he would gain.

The face inside the Core still had its mouth wide open; it was just cooling down from the previous blast, but it was apparently ready to fire once again. The same crackling noise and the same light emitting from its throat began to reverberate through the room once again, although he seemed to be the only one of the three to notice, and they were passing right through its range again. He suddenly got an idea on how he could defeat the Core, but he needed Misery and Sue to stop attacking him and get off the beast they were riding, and fast. With both his hands full he didn't have a lot of options; Misery thrust her fist forward, which he effortlessly ducked and was forced to counter by butting his head into her chest, pushing her off the beast. He couldn't lift himself fast enough to dodge the attack Sue definitely would have capitalized on, so rather than get physical, he was forced to open fire with his machine gun, blindly firing point-blank into her body as he fought off the recoil. When he turned to see her, she was indeed standing closer than she was, ready to attack, but the hits from the machine gun caught her by surprise. The hits from the gun burnt through her fur and into her skin, but thankfully she was pushed off the beast before he could do any permanent damage.

It was just him standing on top of the smaller beast as it floated obliviously in front of the Core's open maw, its attack very nearly ready to fire. He practically threw his machine gun back over his shoulder and his sword back into its scabbard with practised precision, rushing himself to prepare for, hopefully, his last hit against the beast. Misery's glow was no longer surrounding the smaller beast, so it wasn't locked onto whatever flight path she chose; running down the creature's opposite side while hurryingly prepping his missile launcher, he leapt off the creature with as much kick as he could, pushing it into the Core's opening in its shell.

Considering the size difference between himself and the creature, he could only hope the amount of force he put into pushing it into the Core's open mouth was enough to actually get it in there. It wasn't, but that was what the missile launcher was for: he pressed its 'panic' button, and each of the remaining missiles on the weapon fired to life. They sprang out from the weapon, each of the half-dozen or so flying through the air, their individual vapour trails clear as could be, and they each collided with the smaller beast in its side. It gave out its own yowl of pain, sounding much like the larger Core but 'younger' as each missile hit it in its side _hard_, pushing it that last few feet into the Core's mouth just as it fired.

The enormous blasts it fired from its mouth exploded with the smaller beast on impact, lighting up the Core from the inside as each hit ignited in its own mouth. Bursts of light escaped from the corners of its mouth around the creature caught in its opening, the explosions from its own attack detonating in its mouth, ripping apart its sensitive skin and teeth from the inside as each hit blew unexpectedly early against the shell of the smaller creature. Loud booms vibrated through its body and into the air with each hit, and its strong, sturdy outer shell began to flex and stretch with each blast. After the third explosion – smoke and steam visibly creeping out from around the gag in its opening – the Core began to sink, its enormous body crashing against the floor with all its weight. The top of its shell began to collapse into itself, unable to sustain its own weight, but before its body could totally cave in, a brilliant white light filled the room from its imploding body. Quote could only shield his eyes from the light, before a shockwave from the body's implosion knocked him off his feet. He had no idea where Misery or Sue were; he could only hope that they weren't too close to the blast.

* * *

He was only out for a few moments; the shaking of the room was strong enough to wake him from his familiar unconsciousness. The sounds of heavy stone falling from the ceiling and smashing against the floor all around him was nearly deafening, and he could hear Sue yelp in fright every time one of them nearly squashed them both. She was sitting on top of him, shaking him by his scarf and yelling all manner of words, trying to rouse him awake. When he finally opened his eyes, Sue's expression visibly lightened in relief, but the urgency was still there. She had changed back from her frenzied half-human form back to her totally-Mimiga form, although her familiar sweater was gone since it didn't survive the change. She didn't seem the least bit concerned over her nudity, her mind focused on much more important things.

"The island's falling!" she yelled over the rumbling, leaping off Quote and making her way towards the stairs. "It's collapsing everywhere! We gotta leave, _now_!" She started to run full-tilt to the staircase leading down to the bottom of the mountain; she felt no pain from their fight, from how she ran, and she didn't look any different than before. He wondered if she even remembered any of it.

Climbing himself onto his feet, feeling the weight of all three of his weapons and his jetpack still in place, he ran for the stairs too. He glanced around the room as he went; each of the smaller beasts that floated idly around the room were lying on the ground, their bodies pressed flat as if they had deflated, each of them dead. The Core itself was nowhere to be seen; same with Misery. He hesitated in his run, spinning slowly around the room as he kept towards the way out, looking hard for Misery anywhere among all the rubble and other dead bodies. He couldn't see her; chances were she was crushed under one of the falling blocks from the roof, or under one of the dead bodies. He held onto the hope that she had woken up before either of them and escaped, or teleported away from the room, but he couldn't stay and start digging for a body that might not be there. He sprinted towards the stairs, his legs and arms heavy from fatigue from all the fighting, but his stride was long and powerful; death was a powerful motivator.

His run down the steps was fairly straightforward: aside from all the rumbling, it wasn't any harder going down through the darkness than it was going up it, his hands feeling along the walls as he went down. He soon found the foot of the steps in the second room – some of the cages had fallen from their positions high on top of each other, the stacks strewn across the ground and some of their locks swinging wide open. The other stacks that remained were jumbling about with the movements; he could feel the incredible rush of wind from outside, through the grated fence, and he could see the clouds below the island slowly beginning to creep up from below the horizon. The wind whistled as it pushed through the grates in the fence, each song combining to a sort of unnerving howl as it went through the room.

The tumbled cages were short and flat, at least, making them easy stepping stones towards the other end of the room and towards the second set of stairs. Thankfully, all the Mimiga that had been caged had evacuated long ago, although where to was anyone's guess. They knew the island better than he did; hopefully, they knew of a safer way into the island than the way he took to get here. The hole the Doctor had punched straight through the floor next to the staircase was still uncovered; he slipped through the opening towards the room below, shaving off the few seconds it would take for the stairs.

The throne room was still as messy as ever, thanks to Misery's destructive spell. The ground was still uprooted all over the place, debris from the floor making the room a hazard to pass itself, and with the rushing wind pushing and pulling everywhere as the island fell, it was all the harder to navigate. He flew himself through the room with the Booster, taking a short landing next to the undisturbed throne to cool the jetpack a bit as he made the next leap. The bricks from overhead were beginning to dislodge; mostly only pebbles and dirt were falling between the cracks at the moment, but it was a sure sign telling him to go faster.

Sue had beaten him out of the mountain and was nearly already to the cabin once Quote got himself through the door at the base. She glanced behind her shoulder, seeing him sprinting as fast as he could away from the mountain to catch up, and motioned for him to go faster before turning and running some more. Weirdly, the helicopter from before wasn't there: someone had found it and taken off from the island with it. Even if it were, it wouldn't have done either of them any good, since they didn't know how to pilot it, but it left a very serious question for them: where next?

Quote was going to worry about that later, running full-tilt from the mountain's entrance. Outside he was safe from falling bricks, but loose boulders lining the mountain's outside were still crashing down on him from all sides. He kept his focus divided between running ahead and looking over his shoulder to avoid any rocks that might be falling straight for him. The two frenzied Mimiga he had seen before weren't anywhere in sight. Perhaps they were on some other side of the island by now, or perhaps they were underneath some of the rocks strewn about the lawn of the mountain. Maybe they were even de-frenzied with the Core's destruction and had taken shelter someplace else. Wherever they were, they weren't nearby, and he didn't know if he should feel okay with that, considering they were still Mimiga.

Sue had run up to the top of the little curve just past the cabin she and her crewmates had bunked in, where the helicopter was last. She had paused to catch her breath, her eyes trained on the mountain above them, watching for any more falling boulders. Quote ran to catch up, thinking of their options on getting off the island before they were crushed dead under the debris. They couldn't try to hide in that last cave and they certainly couldn't hide in the cabin; their only real option was to leap off the island for safety. And that was just as deadly as standing and doing nothing, essentially. Maybe Kazuma had taken to the air on his baby dragon, and they could somehow catch them both as they fell. The Egg Corridor was clear on the other side of the island, though, so the chances of that happening were pretty slim.

His thoughts turned to Professor Booster and Itoh and Momorin and Jack and Mahin and all the other Mimiga and Gaudi and what they could possibly do. They were all locked inside the island somewhere, without any opportunity to escape, waiting for the walls to come crushing down on them once the island impacted the earth. Just as his errant thoughts turned to Curly, the ground underneath the cabin gave way, opening the hollow ground up from underneath him. He was taken completely by surprise as he limply fell into the hole, grasping and kicking at air as he went, trying to keep his balance on some invisible platform as he fell. Sue ran up to the hole's edge, looking straight down into the black pit that he fell, cupping her hands around her mouth to try and amplify her voice, but it was no use; her words were totally drowned out by the sound of the wind rushing past his ears, the walls falling down around him, and the island's rumbling as he fell. Before long, the darkness of the island overtook his sight, forcing him to fall blindly into the pit in an out-of-control freefall.

* * *

He never fell unconscious from the fall. He was wide awake for each slam against the collapsing stone, his body beating against the rock like a baton against a drum while he fell straight down. He could see nothing as he went, the darkness filling his vision entirely while he fell, leaving him hopeless to the elements as his hung limp in the air. He could try straightening himself with the Booster, but he didn't know so much as which way was up. The hole in the ground that he fell through had vanished high above him.

The fall began to smooth and slide the farther down he went, easing his painful descent into the belly of the doomed island. A mysterious orange light began to fill the pit he was falling into with all the dirt and stone, allowing him to see where he was going. The ground began to ease into a very gradual slide, allowing him onto the floor of some hidden sanctuary deep under the island's surface, but he still hit the slide hard and was still sent spiralling over himself as he fell, unable to regain his balance and stability in the fall. His machine gun slipped from over his shoulder in the fall, becoming lost in the avalanche of dirt and stone trailing close behind him.

The flat of the floor finally came into view just a few terrifying moments down the slide. Most of the falling stone had gone before him, slowly rolling to a steady stop at the bottom, but there was still a dangerous amount catching up from behind. As damaged as he felt from going so long without a break ever since leaving the Plantation, he managed to keep himself upright with a superhuman amount of effort, fluttering steadily with the Booster just over the base of the slide, allowing the remaining stone to pass from underneath him. The island's shaking was getting worse all the while; he knew the threat of more falling boulders was still there, so he kept going, staying ahead of the onslaught.

The bright orange tunnel he was in stretched for a large distance, just going straight ahead. The walls had been chiselled with the oft-seen expertise around the island, although something seemed different here than anyplace else. The stone almost looked…polished, compared to the dirty, dusty uniform of everyplace else. Not a single chip was missing from any brick in the tunnel, although now with the island on its crash-course towards the earth below, several of the stone bricks from overhead were jarring loose, coming to a crash on the floor below, just like with the chamber holding the Core.

He glanced behind him, looking for his machine gun under the debris anywhere. It was still in plain sight, but it was snapped in two from the hit against the ground and the numerous weights of the falling rocks. It was far beyond repair; for that matter, his missile launcher was useless at this point anyway, being totally empty. Neither weapon was particularly cumbersome, but at this point, with his tired limbs and his beaten focus, any lost weight was a reprieve. Without a second thought, he slipped the shoulder strap from the missile launcher off his left shoulder, discarding it.

There was no way he was going to go back up the pit and back to the surface, and he wasn't too keen on giving up and waiting for his death; he turned around, down the well-lit orange tunnel, breaking into another run as he desperately began to look for a way out.

Less than a minute from beginning his run, he found his first surprise within the island's belly: just around the corner from the first bend, he saw Curly, lying still on the ground and surrounded by more of the falling bricks. Was there another way into this place that he didn't know about? Did she fall down, or rise up, some pit in order to get here? Was she even still alive? He hadn't expected her to be here, in the middle of the island as it fell, apparently all alone and surrounded by falling debris.

Just as his pace quickened to get himself to her side, his vision began to darken again. It wasn't getting dark in the tunnel, but rather, the colour seemed to leave his vision entirely, and he could only begin to see in monochrome black-and-white, just like from taking that hit when he fought the Doctor. He began to worry about coming down with another bout of rage, when, unlike last time, the sound in his ears began to dull and soften as well, until he was absolutely deaf to everything happening around him. His movements slowed, unintentionally; it was like he was beginning to run through thick molasses, his limbs becoming harder to move until he was frozen still entirely – along with everything else in the room. He was still aware of everything he could see: the falling rocks; Curly lying still in the middle of the floor; the vibrating of the wall; but all of it, from himself to the bricks stopping mid-flight between the ceiling and the floor, were stopped in time.

He was really beginning to get concerned over what was happening to him, when he suddenly heard a voice in his head. The sound was crystal clear, its words perfectly legible with each syllable, and it was particularly androgynous. _Did you know_, it asked, _that the witch-woman Jenka had a younger brother?_ He didn't know if he should feel alarmed, or what he should be alarmed _at_, but it didn't look like he was going to have a choice when it came to listening to this voice's story. _His name was Ballos. And just like his older sister, he possessed magical powers unseen by any other man. He was a great man; he led and protected his people using his magical power, providing warmth during the harshest colds and rain during the fiercest droughts. His people loved and trusted him more than they loved their own king…_

In a blink, each of his senses came flooding back to him at once. He stumbled over his feet, his stride totally broken from the interruption, and momentarily stunned from the sudden rush of sound and colour as it all came rushing back to him. He looked around the room dumbly, wondering who or what could have put him in such a trance to force him to listen to what they had to say; of course, there was nobody nearby, aside from Curly.

Putting the strange event to the back of his mind, he ran to her side immediately, dropping to his knees and picking up her head gently. Her eyes were still moving under her eyelids; she gave a short, pained moan to confirm that she was still alive and still active.

He looked over her body, trying to see if anything was broken, and quickly discovered each of her legs bending in two separate places. The bones in her legs had been _shattered_, although since she wasn't under any bricks, the cause wasn't immediately apparent. He looked up, trying to see if there was another hole going straight down that she could have jumped down, but there was nothing, just solid rock straight above them.

Still dutifully attached to her hip was the holster carrying the Polar Star he had traded her when they first met. Aside from the sword, he was considerably unarmed, and Curly didn't look like she was going to need the gun anytime immediately; hurriedly, he took the Polar Star from her holster and jammed it barrel-down into the belt of his pants. He remembered the tow rope from the island's core, still wrapped around his waist just above his belt, clasped onto itself to keep from sliding off, and how useful it was to get Curly out of the core and to that little hideaway where she was revived. Unclipping it from itself and letting it slip to the floor, he proceeded tying her up to him the same way as last time; although the Booster made it a little difficult, he still managed to tie her back to his, both of them facing the opposite direction. The extra space made the rope a little tighter than last time, but she was still secured safely to him. With that done, he began down the tunnel once more.

The biggest threat of the long orange tunnel was the collapsing roof above them. There was no telling when a crafted stone would dislodge from the ceiling above them and come crashing down; its size, its shape, its location, they were all random variables that he couldn't predict for the life of him. The rumbling of the walls around him was intense, shaking him in his legs and disorienting his steps. After spending only a moment sprinting down the hall, he saw something begin to creep into vision from the far distance; it flew with feathery wings, but its shape was definitely human, with a head, torso, legs and arms. There were lots of them, each of them flapping almost casually towards the two, ignoring the collapsing island around them as though it were just another day.

Each of them carried a simple bow and a quiver of arrows; rather tame by the rest of the island's technological standards, but dangerous all the same. He consciously drew his Polar Star, feeling the warm, rigid, familiar grip in his palm as he held it, wrapping his finger around the trigger protectively, though he did not fire at any of them. He kept up his pace, dodging falling stones by bobbing and weaving between their fall paths, shrugging his shoulders every time to keep Curly's balance on his shoulders.

The farther he got to the end of the tunnel, the more of it came to view; he noticed that it seemed to simply stop dead at the end, with no visible door or window anywhere along its high wall for him to go through. The floor just before it dipped deeper into the island, however, which was exactly what he didn't want; to go farther into the island as it plummeted. Once he got close enough to the wall for their liking, the humans with wings each prepped their individual bows, firing at Quote in an attempt to get him to stop.

Just what he didn't need was more pressure on keeping them both alive and finding a way out of this place. His movements became more and more varied, seeing the arrows fly from their bows and tracing their flight so he could avoid where they landed, all the while returning fire with his Polar Star while _still_ dodging falling rocks. The flying humans couldn't seem to take a hit very well; the Polar Star wasn't particularly powerful and it didn't look like Curly had it modified in any way, but a single hit from it would cause them to retreat in pain. Each time he struck one, it'd make a gross, awkward yell in pain; a clearly inhuman sound. Sometimes their skin would flake off where he managed to hit them, revealing a much more monstrous green underneath.

Halfway through the tunnel, the same sensation wrapped around him; the dull colours, the blank sound, time freezing around him totally, keeping his form frozen in place, his legs sprinting towards the far end of the tunnel with his left arm raised in the air against the flying menaces. _The resentful king was jealous of Ballos,_ he heard the voice speak to him, narrating the story further. This was _hardly_ the time for stories. _So he had him caught and imprisoned. His unjustified punishment was cruel and severe. It was a lesson on the terribleness humans can achieve._

Just as quickly as last time, he was brought out of his trance, with everything resuming around him at full speed. He didn't miss a beat himself; he expected the awkward transition and easily kept himself steady, firing at his opponents seamlessly. Once he pulled himself to the end of the tunnel, firing some more at the aggressive flyers, he turned and leapt down the hole in the floor, taking him farther in. The only way to go was forward, after all. Just as his feet cleared the opening and he could feel a stirring on his back, the voice decided it had more to tell right then and there. _Ballos was driven mad by the undeserved punishment, his rage uncontrollable and his fury unbound. Weakened by the torture, he was helpless to contain himself; the king and his kingdom were swallowed by Ballos' wild magical force. His loved life and his proud name had been destroyed and tarnished in a single night, consumed and replaced only by fiery hot ashes._

The floor under the first was unmarked and uncultivated; mostly just dirt and unprocessed stone. The lighting still painted everything a peculiar orange. He landed on top of a column, the path onward continuing behind him and underneath the tunnel he had just went through. He had no idea how much longer it would take before the island would hit the ground, but he managed to trick himself into believing that he'd always have a few minutes longer before the impact to find a way out.

"Quote?" he heard Curly ask behind him. She sounded tired and disoriented, but she was moving and speaking, which was a relief. "Huh…? Where are…?" She shook her head and blinked her eyes, trying to get her bearings but she had no idea where either of them were at the moment. She heard the rumbling, and she could feel the tightness around her waist, the rope connecting her to him back-to-back. She couldn't feel her legs, though. "Where are we?" she asked, glancing around the corridor they were in. The floor was uneven caked dirt, with dust and pebbles constantly raining down on them from the vibrations. He was too busy running hard, his eyes peeled for an exit anywhere, to answer.

The winged humans were on this floor as well, although they were taking strategic positions all over the corridor and waiting for him to go to them, unlike last time. Some of them were still equipped with the bow and quiver, taking shots at him whenever he got near enough, but some others were equipped with a spear or javelin instead and tried to rush him head-on. They still couldn't take much punishment and fell easily to one or two shots from the Polar Star, but with their higher positions and dotted cover, they were being awfully clever with trying to take them down. He had no idea what they were and why they wanted him dead, but between arrows and spears he couldn't stop to ask questions.

A pillar of the winged humans flew down from the hole in the ceiling they had just jumped down, their own weapons at the ready to snipe them where they ran. Quote was too busy barrelling forward to notice the group of hunters coming up behind them; Curly gave a surprised shout when the first one fired its bow, quickly digging her fingers around her belt to retrieve her other weapon and return fire, the arrow only barely missing its mark. Her new gun fired much farther and faster than the Polar Star and carried a considerable wallop behind her shots, capable of bringing down the user's nemesis with just a few well-aimed shots. The winged humans didn't take to the new weapon too well, pulling away without hesitation after the slightest graze from the strong pistol.

"Hey!" Curly shouted into Quote's ear, trying to get his attention. She got it, but it didn't show; he was too busy trying to muscle his way forward, skilfully predicting attacks from each of the archers and militia, avoiding and countering all the while. Up ahead was a new type of brute, lacking wings like its brethren but easily four times as large as the average archer. They were lifting entire boulders with one powerful hand, ready to toss it forward with an underhand swing towards them. "Don't worry about–"

Quote was listening, his hand carrying the Polar Star raised ahead of him, pulling the trigger to intercept the new, large opponent before it could try to bowl them over with its rocks. But the entity that spoke directly to him decided to continue its story again from where it left off; his mind went through the familiar motions, all sound drowning out and all time stopping dead, pausing arrows mid-flight and gunshots halfway out the barrels. _Driven insane by his punishment and beyond recovery, Ballos' sister Jenka confined him to the floating island high in the sky, where she believed he could do no further harm. Placing him in his prison was all she could do; no matter how far gone he was, Ballos was still her brother, and she could not bring herself to kill him._

"–your six o'clock, I have you covered!" Curly spoke like she wasn't aware of the break in reality, and that Quote was the only one between them that was hearing this voice and experiencing these remarkable sensations. The huge enemy lopped its stone towards them, the rock hurling towards them slowly but they were still fairly close. Quote leapt to the side, the rock passing around them easily as it bounced across the ground, and he returned the fire. It took a bit more punishment than the others but it still fell easily enough, its pasty skin flaking away and revealing the concealed dark green scales.

Just ahead was another hill of mixed soil and pebble, nearly reaching to the roof of the cave with still with more than enough room for them to pass through standing straight. Curly was busy keeping up her own fire, picking off the few enemies Quote had missed with ease, apparently remembering how to use a weapon with the rest of her memories. Just over the hill was a short run to a walled-off area with a wide opening on its bottom, protected by numerous different types of the humans and with archers lining the unsteady walls the whole way.

The shaking from the island was probably throwing their aim off, causing arrows to fly all over the place but hardly towards either of them. He focused on the left, seeing and shooting every archer on his side, while Curly took the right, her own aim working perfectly with her other weapon with relearned expertise. Some arrows soared right over the heads while others cut through the clothes on their skin, but Quote and Curly were firing like professionals, their hands steady in the shaky atmosphere. None of the enemies with pikes or the larger ones throwing rocks managed to get more than just a few steps with Quote's impeccable aim.

The walled-off area was just a fairly narrow column with more archers sitting on perches on either side, with another exit clearly visible at the top of the far wall. The moment they entered the room, each archer drew their bows and wound back their strings, taking careful aim at them both, and firing one after the other. Quote was hyped on some kind of imaginary adrenaline; he didn't even pause to think about strategy or their options, simply running to the centre of the bottom floor and leaping straight up, kicking the Booster alive at the height of his jump.

Quote fired ahead as they ascended, managing to shoot them either before they could shoot him, or managing to get their slow, arcing arrows in his own fire as well. Curly was managing the same way, getting her targets directly and silencing them easily as they shot up the pillar; their action was quick and precise, bringing themselves to the top of the tower and leaving injured human-things in their wake, lucky that they were fast enough and that their aim was poor enough to not take a single hit as they climbed. _Jenka had a daughter, Misery, whom was also a witch,_ Quote heard just as they neared the top of the column and right to the exit. _She is the one who is responsible for the Demon Crown…as she forced Ballos to create it. Her charge for her greed was an eternal curse to the Crown, forcing her to obey whoever possessed it. The curse can be lifted if the Demon Crown can be destroyed, but…_

His fixation was cut short, the voice apparently telling its fill for the moment. Whoever this person was, they apparently knew quite a bit more about Misery and the Demon Crown than he did; they confirmed Balrog's and Misery's earlier claims that they could not disobey the Doctor because of the Crown being in his possession. He wished he knew where either of them were, and if they had gotten off the island safely.

The exit to the tower led to another pit in the ground, only this one was massive; it was easily the width of a building, heading straight down for hundreds of feet. The orange luminescence continued all the way down, lighting their way, but unlike the gentle ease into the bottom like last time, it looked as though it simply stopped, forcing him to land flat on his feet. And even if it did slope, he still had Curly to worry about; he couldn't keep himself upright as he fell for the life of him last time.

The island seemed to sense his apprehension over jumping into the pit – with a powerful tremor, the platform he was standing on crumbled under itself, collapsing to pieces and falling down the hole helplessly, taking Quote and Curly with them. He thought to start up the Booster to bring them back up, but their combined weight caused him to drop faster than he was used to and he wasn't sure if the Booster could support both their weight like that. They both gave a worried gasp as they fell down the oddly-lit tunnel, unsupported by anything as they plummeted straight down.

The ground came up far faster than Quote was comfortable with, and he shot the Booster awake by tilting his right foot straight up. The jetpack came alive between them, its thrusters working hard against the downward force and the surplus weight as they closed in on the solid ground beneath them. Their fall began to slow, easing their descent greatly, but the jetpack cut out, overheated, just metres from the ground. They free-fell the rest of the way, Quote landing hard on the soles of his shoes; his practice with jumping and falling had certainly came in handy, but the shock up his legs from the impact was startling all the same.

_The Demon Crown will continue to exist, no matter how many times it is destroyed, so long as Ballos lives. This is the supreme magical power of his eternally enraged soul, with which the Demon Crown, his own evil creation, is imbued. Ballos himself wishes to die, but his magic has made him immortal to all but the most mortal of wounds; even now he uses his magic to force the island to the ground, intent on burying himself under the rubble for eternity. The Core was created to counter Ballos and anchor the island to the sky._ Quote faltered, dropping to his hands from the harsh impact against the ground once his trance ended. "Are you okay?" Curly asked, looking over her shoulder. "Quick thinking with the jetpack, but that fall was still pretty harsh. Do you need to take a break?" Quote shook his head; the island was falling and they still hadn't found a way out, but he figured the voice was telling him Ballos' sad story for a reason the deeper into the island they went. Leaving the island at this point would probably come second to meeting Ballos personally.

He picked himself up, despite how badly his feet hurt from the fall, looking straight ahead from where he stood. He was standing at the bottom of the tall shaft, which opened to a naturally open walkway in one of the island's wings; a simple wide stone bridge with no walls or rails protecting any crosser from falling was all that was connecting the spot he stood on to another, simple wooden door placed into the far stone wall. The bridge was thick with grass – not moss, but live, healthy grass – swaying frantically in the rushing wind as the island soared downward. They could see below the island; land was clearly visible by now, the clouds nowhere in sight, although the island was falling awfully slowly than he imagined it to be.

"Whoa, the island is falling?!" asked Curly, incredulous. "I thought we were just in the middle of some crazy earthquake! I didn't know that – wait a sec, you must have destroyed the Core." Quote nodded, taking the first few steps onto the bridge and towards what was probably the very last door in the island. "Way to go, Quote. Wish I was there to help, but I guess the world's safe with you around, huh, super soldier?" Truth be told he could have used all the help he could get, against Misery and the Doctor and his crazy transformation and against whatever was living inside the Core, his bones bruised and his muscles cramping and his energy dropping…but he wasn't about to tell her that.

Halfway across the stone bridge, a figure began to appear just in front of the door, melting into sight the same way Misery tended to. He gripped his Polar Star with both hands tightly, raising it offensively against whoever was warping in his way, ready to fire at a moment's notice. The form began to take a solid shape, but it wasn't Misery; it wasn't even human. Four furry paws were placed flatly on the ground before them, a long body with a healthy tail at the end sitting down in front of the door taking a solid shape, followed by a flat skull with floppy ears on either side. It had deep blue eyes and a long snout with a wet, black nose on the end, its muzzle shut as its eyes met Quote's.

Sitting in front of them was a young puppy that looked nearly exactly like Hajime. The body shape and breed were the same, although their fur pattern differed very slightly between the two, as he recalled. He kept his weapon trained on the dog, though; standing on the unsafe bridge underneath a falling mass of land, he was understandably nervous and wasn't about to let anything get the drop on him, even if the target was just a puppy.

The dog's expression visibly dropped once they got a good look at each other. Something was off about the dog; the sheen on its fur was unnaturally radiant: the dog literally seemed to be glowing an ethereal white light, and its body was surrounded by that same blue glow emanated whenever Misery cast a spell. Its light aura seemed to flicker back and forth in the wind, but its fur and its thin ears remained stationary. _Please kill my master_, it begged, its voice projecting into both Quote's and Curly's minds at once. It was definitely the same androgynous voice that was telling him the stories as he approached, there was no question about it.

"Who's there?" Curly asked, squirming around behind Quote, trying to look ahead. "Who wants us to kill who?" Quote turned sideways, spinning Curly around so that she could get a better look at the dog guarding the door to Ballos' prison.

_If you kill my master, it will liberate Misery from her eternal curse._ It made no movement as the voice rang clearly in their heads, only this time without dulling the colours and stopping time around them. _If you don't, there will be others who seek the Crown, and these past events will occur limitlessly forever._ Quote dropped his Polar Star when it was obvious that this dog wasn't going to try and attack them, holstering it in his belt once again. _My master's name is Ballos. He is a man who does not know death…his magic is beyond containment._ The aura surrounding its body began to flicker and fade, and its body began to disappear along with it.

"You look just like Hajime," Curly said softly, though loud enough for the dog to hear over the howling winds around them. Its aura strengthened somewhat at the name, but it was clear that the dog wasn't going to be staying for much longer.

_Is that his name?_ it asked, its voice lighter and softer. _We are…distant relatives, he and I. Thank you both for looking after him when he lost his way from Jenka._ Its body vanished as the wind picked up once more, seemingly blown away with the air, leaving just the final door for them to open. They were both wordless; just beyond the door was the last thing they needed to stop to prevent any more Date Fuyuhiko's and to give Misery, and probably Balrog, their freedom – even if she brought it on herself, according to the dog's story. Quote took a deep breath, to relax his shaken nerves, before twisting the knob and pulling the door open.

There was no solid floor for them to stand on just beyond the door; it simply dropped straight down, just like way back when he first found himself in the Mimiga village, to the floor a story below. It was an easy drop for Quote, even if he was still a little shaken from the previous one, shuffling and readjusting Curly on his back. The floor below was a finely dusted, clean, well-worn stone, although the clean stone walkway hid the bones and skulls from various humans and animals hidden in plain sight around the walls and corners and even the ceiling of the room. The walls were uncut, unprocessed stone, which was a stark contrast to the red pillars dotting the room sparsely across the ground, each with a peculiar eye-like pattern around their circumference and each of varying heights and widths.

In the very centre of the room was a throne, not unlike the one for whoever wore the Demon Crown, but it was considerably more ornate with all sorts of designs carved into the red stone it was made of: horns and eyes and hoops lined the armrests and the headrest, compared to the simple, unremarkable stone chair in the mountain. Lying face-down at the foot of the throne, arms and legs outstretched, was a man: a tall, bald man with tan skin, wearing a clean, white robe with fancy green, yellow and red decorations running down the back of his robe and around his neck. He wore simple green sandals and numerous rings all around his stubby fingers. His skull was nearly oval and flat across his head, and his body was a little thick around the chest and waist. He lay totally motionless on the floor as Quote and Curly landed on the far side of the room, as if he hadn't heard them approach.

Quote walked sideways so that Curly could have a clear view of what was happening as well. They both had their weapons drawn as Quote tip-toed towards him, not sure of what to expect of a man with limitless magic power that could level kingdoms in a single night. He seemed awfully docile considering the island was going to crush him and everything else in it in a matter of minutes, the walls still rumbling with the island as it fell.

"Ah!" the man said loudly, causing them both to flinch and raise their weapons toward him. "Welcome! It's been so long since I've had company!" Slowly, the man pushed his hands and feet underneath himself, pushing himself back onto his feet like a normal man would, instead of using his incredible powers to levitate back up or something as Quote had expected. His face was just as wide as the rest of his head; his large eyes were closed as he spoke, though his large, wide nose flared and his long, wide lips flapped with each syllable. He brought his hands to his front, clasping them together and he smiled a very warm, friendly smile towards the two when he finally brought straightened himself.

"My name is Ballos," he said warmly. His voice was very rich and deep; a very practised tenor-like voice that seemed designed to catch everybody's attention the moment he used it. "My I ask for yours?"

Quote stood awkwardly towards the man, both their weapons raised right at his head, a stunned silence filling the room from Ballos' near-frightening hospitality. "Curly Brace and Quote," Curly said quickly and flatly after a moment, not returning any of the formalities Ballos was showing them.

Ballos chuckled a deep, happy chuckle once she gave him their names. "Well then, Curly Brace and Quote, would you happen to have the time to listen to this old man ramble for a spiel?" Jenka certainly looked her age, but Ballos looked as though he was just a normal man in his fifties or so, compared to the many centuries he _should_ have looked. "I may not look the part, but I'm a warlock, you see. Some time ago – I've forgotten how long, precisely – I allowed my thirst for magic to grow and expand and consume myself, without any fear of judgment for my actions. My raw desire for more built upon itself, expanding beyond my control, until it became so powerful that even I, it's master, was helpless to keep it suppressed. This force, this…incredible, unstoppable, ferocious force was so magnificent, so very…enthralling, that its fire gorged itself on the child who adored me, and the wife who loved me." His wide, closed-mouth grin did not waver or falter with any single word – Quote felt like he was going to be sick.

"They were swallowed by its flames and they suffered for it…all because of me and my selfish quest for more. I did nothing to prevent it; I simply stood and stared into the blaze, transfixed, unable to look away from the fiery horror that I had created with my own magic. Their screams reached my ears and the scent of their burning flesh filled my nostrils; and I laughed…" Curly audibly grunted in disgust. She didn't know how much more of this guy's unwavering smile and his cheery storytelling attitude she could take.

"Jenka – my dear sister Jenka – sealed me away, my magic growing and raging more and more explosively with every moment that passed. I do not blame her; I would have done the same in her position. But, you'll understand, after staying sealed here, in this very room, for…well, like I said, I've lost track of time, but it's been a _while_. After staying sealed here, in this very room for so long, my magic feeding on itself the whole time, I've waited patiently for this _very_ moment, for the person who will finally bring my incredible magical fury to its end." He opened his eyes: his right eye was a very deep ruby-red, though his left eye was a pitch-white. His red eye seemed familiar to Quote, and he knew exactly from where: the same red jewel was the centrepiece to the Demon Crown. Misery had ripped his left eye right out, and placed it into the crown, which gave it its incredible power. "Now kill me!" Ballos bellowed, his happy grin immediately flipping into a terrifying scowl, "_or I will kill you!_"

He stamped on the ground hard with his right foot, and the ground around him seemed to ripple outwardly like a stone thrown into a pond, the soil heaving up in all directions at a constant, fast speed. Quote made a low leap over it, allowing it to pass harmlessly under them both, and they returned the fire. Ballos seemed to take every hit, making no effort to dodge or to conjure up some kind of shield like Misery had, but at the same time none of the shots seemed to be hurting him too much.

Ballos leapt into the air right next to them, propelling himself forward with an invisible force to meet Quote and Curly in the air, intent on ramming himself into them both. Quote directed the Booster to his left, just barely missing Ballos as he whipped past them both. They kept up the fire, each shot hitting its mark easily, but he did not move or flinch like they had even hit him, and his clothes did not smear like they would on anyone else.

The two fell back to the ground, standing sideways beside one of the smaller pillars in the room. Ballos turned and arced himself back around with amazing flexibility, his speed keeping up perfectly while he turned around and aimed himself towards them once more. Neither of them were expecting the incredible turn-around; Quote made a hasty leap backwards, away from the human missile as Ballos collided with all his force into the pillar, shattering it to pieces easily. But even then he was still going, not even feeling the bump on his head as he kept up.

He zoomed down to the floor, righting himself straight as he slid across the ground with impressive practice, his sandals burning across the dirty stone and across the few skeletons as he went. He held both his hands up to his shoulders, palms open, and without any verbal incantation or obvious movement, fire seemed to simply ignite in his palms. Quote knew better than to simply stand there and fire; he kept running, both their guns kept on him at all times. His concentration was as solid as concrete: no matter how many hits he took, he simply stood there and took each shot without breaking his focus or even registering the pain. He slung both his hands forward, one after the other, grunting loudly as if he were throwing a ball as hard as he could. The fireballs he had conjured each burst in the air once Ballos clenched both his hands into fists, raining down embers all across the room from where they stopped.

Quote stopped behind one of the other pillars, taking shelter from the rain of fire, watching several embers cascade down to either of his sides past the column. Once he was confident that the rain was over, he jumped into the air, bringing himself on top of the flat pillar he was hiding behind without using the Booster. Ballos was making his way towards the centre of the room, wide open for more shots – although given how he reacted so plainly to each hit so far, it made them wonder just how effective they actually were, but it was all they had.

Ballos looked up, spying the two on top of his ornament, and disappeared in a flash of the same off-blue Quote was so familiar with. He scanned the room quickly, trying to guess where he might reappear. "Behind!" Curly yelled, her steady hands firing non-stop at the incoming Ballos as he spearheaded towards them once more. Quote didn't try to spin around and counter; he simply stepped off the pillar, falling to the floor while Ballos passed overhead. Ballos swung himself around once again, bringing himself high into the air before slamming back down to the floor with all his weight. Another ripple through the ground, only it was much higher and faster, throwing the skulls and bones in the air was the wave passed under them. Quote retreated, using the Booster to send them up at a backwards angle, trying to keep up with the attack before it overtook them; the jetpack petered out just as the highest point of the wave passed by.

Ballos kept up his attacks; he opened his palms again, crooking eight of his ten fingers inward, and a small blue ember lit up on their tips. He spun each hand down, the fire following and inverting itself, and he extended each finger to various points on the ground, one after the other. The embers flew forward like bullets, embedding themselves in the floor once they struck. Quote was paying attention, running in a broad circle around each shot Ballos made, both he and Curly pelting him with as many shots as they could. It didn't look like Ballos was even aiming for them with his own shots, but Quote wasn't about to let that deceive him.

After all eight embers were absorbed into the ground at different spots, Ballos took to the air once again, hovering upright and in slow circles high above the ground. From each ember, a small blue light began to trace along the ground, running quickly like a startled insect through the dirt and towards Quote and Curly, surrounding them for all sides. Quote took a short hop into the air and pointed the Booster forward, overtop each of the running lights. One of them passed directly underneath his flight path; once they passed overhead, a violent explosion rocked up from the ground. A blast like that would have easily torn them apart.

Curly kept up her attacks on Ballos, following him wherever he went; Quote was too focused on avoiding hits and explosions to follow Ballos' movements. The underground lights were trailing behind him quickly, branching out occasionally to try and cut off his movements. Ballos moved his hands to his sides, his fingers extended towards a pair of pillars in front of him: with a burst from his hands, the top layer of each pillar separated from the rest with a loud crack as the stone cut itself apart from the force. Quote remembered Misery physically straining to move a large brick with any force, even coupled with her own magic; Ballos had no such limitation, and the discs were flung at them both with effortless trajectory.

The first disc soared towards them at the ground, biting into the dirt metres away from Quote, kicking up a huge splash of dirt and rock towards them while the disc itself dug into the ground, drilling towards them ferociously. He gave a powerful leap, soaring high over the air to avoid the disc and two more explosions from the lights chasing him, managing to get in a few more pot-shots on Ballos before focusing on the second, which was coming right for them in the air. He wasn't dropping fast enough – he pointed the Booster straight down, causing them both to plummet hard into the dirt but the disc passed over them both, the turbulence shifting the cap on Quote's head.

Ballos lifted his hands and crooked his fingers once more; this time, his fingers glowed a menacing white before he spun clockwise quickly, his hands and fingers pointed straight up. Streaks of lightning erupted from his fingers and coated the ceiling, the bolts painting the walls as he spun and fell back to the floor. Quote was having enough trouble keeping up with the five remaining lights pursuing him; now he had to watch out for whatever was above them as well? Curly was at least keeping up the fire, and Ballos' incredible defence finally seemed to be waning; his robe was beginning to rip very slightly, and he had a bruise on his forehead, but he moved like he felt nothing.

Ballos landed hard on the ground, causing another wave to bounce up around him and heave up everything it reached. The ripples dissipated forcefully against the pillar's strong bases and they seemed to ignore his throne entirely, but all the loose pebbles and rotten bones upchucked and rained down all over the room. Another of the blue lights burst in the wave, leaving only four still trailing behind them; the lightning Ballos had struck into the ceiling began to rain down with the rest of the dirt and pebbles, coming down at random times and random places as well. There was no way Quote could predict a strike from a lightning bolt, other than hoping that they actually never _did_ strike the same place twice. Although, lightning in the ceiling? That gave him an idea.

He made a hard turn to his right, his ankles bending under the sudden strain as he ran, keeping ahead of the trailing lights. Ballos was standing still, preparing another spell to fire at the duo while Curly kept pelting him with her shots. Another of the lights exploded far too close for their comfort, causing her to yelp in surprise and cover her face from the incoming debris. Quote was running back towards Ballos from a wide angle; another bolt of lightning struck down from the ceiling, hitting the top of the pillar they were just passing, the static causing them both to shiver and a few hairs to stand on end. His feet and his knees pumped, running as quickly as he could. Ballos was in plain sight, open for some more shots of his own, but he couldn't risk breaking his stride.

Quote got to a comfortable angle facing Ballos, staring the man head-on in the centre of the room while he ran. Curly couldn't see over his shoulder, and with nothing in front of her or to her side there was nothing for her to shoot at, but she knew that Quote knew what he was doing. The three remaining lights were close behind – one of them bursting once it got close enough, unsteadying Quote's balance – while he sprinted, his eyes not on Ballos but on the ceiling above them, studying its rock face and trying to predict when another bolt was going to come down.

Ballos' raised both his hands above his head, his palms glowing a light-yellow as he prepared his next spell against the robots. He was aware of Quote running straight for him, but he was confident that nothing either of them could throw at him could cause his focus to falter. He levitated himself regardless: while no hit could break his concentration, his body wasn't nearly as steely as his mind. Quote was in the air immediately after him, pointing his Polar Star in the air – but not firing. He didn't intend to tackle Ballos either; he passed underneath the man, his gun held as high as he could without once pulling its trigger.

Just as he passed underneath the man, a lightning bolt streaked across the sky as he had hoped. Quote and Curly were both made of hard metal, and his Polar Star had a steel casing; his plan was to make themselves into lightning rods, getting their metal as high as they could to attract the lightning while under or at least near Ballos, and hopefully manage to get him in the bolt. It couldn't have gone better: the lightning arced through the air, attracted to their steel, trying to find its way straight to his Polar Star and passing directly through Ballos in the effort. He took the full brunt of the hit, his body stopping the shot entirely while Quote and Curly passed underneath him unharmed.

The strike was quick and deadly, the electricity gone in a flash, the thunderclap all that remained of the strike. Ballos' body totally vanished once the strike hit; every piece of him gone, disintegrated to the wind, leaving behind only the robes on his back and the rings on his fingers, each accessory falling unhindered to the floor below. With his concentration thoroughly broken, the remaining blue lights that chased them across the ground each blew and the lightning still charged in the ceiling faded away. The island very slowly began to stop its plummet straight down, the vibrations weakening and the rumbling growing softer as a tense few seconds passed, Quote and Curly still on their guard for anything. "Is that it?" she asked, her gun gripped tightly in both hands. "Did we just win?"

Before the island could stop falling entirely, the shaking and the rumbling began to worsen; the whistling wind through the door they left open when they entered began to intensify. The island began to pick up speed once more; Ballos' body may have been destroyed, but his focus on his magic was still there somehow, forcing the island down. He hadn't been totally killed just yet.

Several rocks and pebbles began to shift and change in the far wall away from them. At first it wasn't anything important given the intensity of the vibrations, but soon entire boulders were beginning to dislodge from the wall, but rather than collapse to the ground they simply hovered silently in the air. Each rock, from the largest to the smallest, began to pile onto themselves on the wall itself, piecing themselves together like an enormous picture-less puzzle, the largest stones lifting and rotating around and the smallest ones diving into the centre of the picture and finding a spot to fill from the inside.

From the beginning it didn't look like the rocks were assembling anything in particular, but eventually they began to click and slam together to form an enormous sphere. Aside from the cracks between each rock it was totally featureless, but those came soon after the form was completed: some of the larger rocks seemed to whittle themselves in the air, revealing white slate underneath the tan dust in nearly perfect squares. Other, naturally curved rocks were smoothened and bent farther, forming elegant L-curves and placed side-by-side as they were pasted onto the front of the ball. Other boulders were cut by nothing, their shavings spilling onto the ground as they began to take two more perfect spheres; one was stark white, floating just to the upper-right of the face of the ball, but the other was a perfect pitch-red, taking the opposite side. Ballos' face was perfectly emulated, from his red right eye to his wide nose to his shining teeth, on the stone sphere suspended high in the air, connected solidly to the wall halfway up from the floor.

There was more rumbling in the room, from the stone pillars still standing and the thick throne sitting in the room as they were lifted into the sky. Every spare rock in the room, from the largest hanging suspending in the ceiling to the bones scattered everywhere around them to the smallest dusts in the far corners, were lifted high into the air above them, leaving the floor absolutely spotless without a single spec of dust still on the floor at any place. Everything began to form an indecipherable whirlwind of stone above them, spiralling into a mesmerizing vortex of dull browns and reds, rocks smashing into each other in their spin. Ballos' throne, his clothes, and his rings were in there as well, swirling menacingly above the two of them, the whole thing kept up by absolutely nothing and threatening to come crashing down on them both at any moment.

The enormous ball that made Ballos' face was totally unmoving the whole time; as if the rock was just a symbol – a type of avatar – that represented Ballos' consciousness rather than his being. Curly didn't buy it, though: she raised her weapon right towards the thing's left eye and fired a few shots, her weapon scoring each hit directly. There was no sound or obvious movement after the barrage, but one of the rocks from the spiralling mass above them quickly swooped down towards them both, hitting the floor with a powerful boom; it missed only because Quote was more interested in the whirl of rocks above them than Ballos' large face.

Now that the first stone had been cast, each of the others began to plummet and strike in quick succession. A rock would strike the ground with incredible force, splintering itself on the impact and knocking Quote off his balance with the vibration before rising back up to the whirlwind, while smaller skipping stones would drop down along any of the four walls and dart across the floor with blinding speed, trying to dig through his body with their trajectory. Having four eyes definitely helped them both out; Quote kept his eyes on the larger rocks above and leap and duck out of the way, while Curly could help him avoid the smaller, faster ones by leaning to one side and forcing him to sidestep away from any incoming projectiles. But they were hopelessly pinned down against Ballos' incredible offensive, using every part of the very room they were in as his weapon.

They both tried to return the fire whenever one of them had a decent shot, but Ballos would always fling something down and disturb the two before they could even pull their triggers. The larger ones weren't so difficult to avoid as the smaller ones, being harder to see and considerably faster than the others. A massive boulder would crash down from above and narrowly miss them both while a smaller one would shoot forward and try to skewer one or both of them as it flew by. Fatigue had caught up to Quote long ago, but it took him this long to realize it; minutes passed like hours while he was busy jumping and weaving and ducking, feeling the rush of wind pass over them as a large one came thundering down and feeling his clothes ruffle as a small one whizzed by him, missing by only hairs as they went.

Their window of opportunity to return any fire was always mockingly narrow and it wouldn't be long before Quote would get too tired to keep up his acrobatics or Ballos made a lucky shot. His pants had taken a few holes from the smaller arrowheads coming way too close to landing a hit, and he wasn't positive how well Curly was holding up. He didn't even know how they were going to kill him; they weren't even clear on whether or not shooting Ballos' face or his eyes would even really do him any harm.

One of the little pebbles finally managed to get him in his left shoulder, shooting right through his tough metal skin and ripping through his inside circuits and gears easily. Its flight path was adjusted significantly as it coursed through his insides for that split second, arching upward and exiting just next to his neck. He gave a loud pained grunt and faltered, slipping to his knees after the hit, dropping his Polar Star in his right hand to cover the wound in reflex. "Are you hit?!" Curly asked in a rush once he collapsed – she knew the gravity the situation, and if Quote was injured…

Another pebble came rocketing past, though Quote was still focused, the injury not severe enough for him to risk stopping for too long. He leaned back as the rock-turned-bullet roared past him: he avoided a fatal hit, but the rock slammed into the clasp of the tow rope around his chest, destroying it. Curly fell off his back with a thump, dropping her own weapon in surprise, the rope still wrapped around them both but without the clasp, it was totally useless. She still couldn't move her legs; she reached out for her gun as she dragged herself across the ground, one arm in front of the other, slowly and painfully. She didn't really know why she was, at this point, but she'd rather go down fighting than resigning to simply getting flattened.

Quote kept his eyes to the sky, watching for some other rock to come down and try to put them to their ends one last time. A huge one did: it dropped down from one of the far ends of the vortex, the air screeching as it came in for one last press. Like Curly, he refused to simply sit there, no matter what the odds were – the pain from the open wound in his shoulder was nearly blinding, but he picked himself onto his feet anyway, turning around and wrapping his good arm around Curly's waist just as she reached her gun. With a powerful grunt, he lifted her with all his strength and tossed her out of harm's way, pushing them both away from the boulder.

The rock came to a powerful crash against the ground, the familiar vibration pushing up his legs and the rushing air wrapping around his body as the rock hit with enough force to crack the ground they stood on. The situation was hopelessly dire; there was already no chance of actually escaping the room, much less the whole island before it hit the ground, or to kill Ballos by any conventional mean. He had one last idea to try; even if he and Curly were going to die here, he'd leave his mark on Ballos.

He spun around, leaping onto the rock before it had a chance to rise back up into the cloud above. He heard Curly call his name as he rose with the boulder, heading into the storm above them, but there was no way he was stopping now. It rose with a startling velocity, approaching the whirlwind above faster than he anticipated, but any height was high enough for him. He climbed past Ballos' teeth, his wide nose, and up to his eyes, rising up and over his forehead before running forward and leaping off the edge of the rock.

He could hardly move his left arm without tremendous pain, but that was alright, he only needed his right. As he fell, he moved his hand to the sword's handle, the scabbard still clinging to his belt. Just as he became level with Ballos' eyes, he kicked the Booster active, sending him flying directly forward, straight into his enormous, rocky face. Pebbles were flinging in front of him and behind him, ripping through his black tank-top and the scarf around his neck, never quite close enough to cut his skin – for all his omnipotence, Ballos wasn't a very good marksman. Quote approached Ballos in the air, drawing his sword while he still had the room to swing it, holding it as steady as he could in only his right hand while he flew. Whether or not the strike was going to kill him wasn't in Quote's all-too-clear mind at this point, and when he finally got close enough to see between the cracks of Ballos' jigsaw-puzzle face, he thrust the silver blade forward with all his strength, sending its tip piercing through the stone in his good eye.

Immediately all the stones circulating in the air began to drop. They weren't being dropped aggressively; the magic that was holding them all up simply dissipated the moment Quote's sword struck Ballos' eye. The rain of rock and bone from above didn't phase him at all, hearing each one crash hard against the floor and not raise again. He gave his sword a firm twist, cutting the blade through the stone some more as it drilled in deeper; Ballos' face began to dismantle, the magic keeping it together vanishing totally with the blow. The rocks that made his chin and his teeth hit the ground first, followed by his nose, creeping up to his eyes – the white one was still totally intact as it spilt to the ground, but the red one was shattered to pieces, dropping down in fragments with the rest of it. The Booster finally gave out, sending Quote down with the rest of it, his tired and beaten ankles absorbing the blows as he landed on the bridge of what was left of Ballos' nose and slid to the ground.

His first thought once he landed was to see if Curly was okay; he hadn't expected the rubble to start falling once he made the blow. He hadn't really expected much of anything, in hindsight, he just wanted to hit Ballos since he figured they were as good as dead by that point anyway. He was pessimistic about all the falling stones and Ballos' face falling apart like that; knowing just how resilient his magic power was, he wouldn't be too terribly surprised if Ballos was still alive somehow and was only getting ready for round three. But, as he climbed to his feet and put his sword away, the constant rumbling and shaking of the island began to lessen steadily, until it stopped all together. The magic Ballos was using to force it down had disappeared…which could only have meant that Ballos must have gone with it.

Curly managed to avoid most of the raining debris by sheer luck; many of the larger boulders and bits of pillar had collapsed all over the room, piling on top of themselves in various deposits all over the room, but thankfully none of them collected on top of her. She was dusty and dirty, but aside from her broken legs, she was absolutely fine. Quote jogged his way to her, climbing over chiselled rocks and uncut boulders, vaulting over the throne that happened to be in his way as well. She was trying to wipe the dust that had accumulated all over her face and her arms off, but she was generally failing; he jumped his way down to her, leaning down to look her over and help clean the dirt away from her face.

"You hear that?" she asked after a moment of them both trying to brush the dirt off her skin. The white was becoming visible under the grey dust, but she was a far cry from actually clean. "No shaking, no rumbling…the island stopped falling." She looked up at Quote, her eyes lighting up and her face just _beaming_. "Quote, that was _amazing_! How you rode that rock into the sky and stabbed Ballos in the eye with your sword! We were beaten, we were hurt, but you didn't give up; you said 'no way! I'm not scared of any magic or any crazy…magic!' And you just up and stabbed the guy in the face!"

Quote fell onto his rump when she was clean enough, his own smile impossible to hold back: the island wasn't falling; the Doctor was dead, probably for the last time; the Core was destroyed; Ballos was defeated, finally given the death he'd craved for centuries; Misery and Balrog were free of their curse; the Demon Crown was probably just a plain blue helmet now that Ballos wasn't powering it anymore, if it still existed at all…he had accomplished a lot. The last two tasks for him to accomplish were to find a way out of this pit with Curly, and to burn every last red flower that might remain in the island.

"So what do you think made the island stop falling once we got him?" she asked. "Do you think, like, all the negative energy was weakened once we beat him, or something? For that matter, what's keeping the island up now?" That was an interesting question. Quote brought his good hand to his chin in thought, when Curly brought her own hands to his. "Nah, don't worry about it, Quote, I'm just excited about all this, is all. That was such a crazy rush! You and I fighting, back-to-back against Jenka Two-Point-Oh in the middle of nowhere on this island; I'm just thinking a million thoughts right now–"

_It hurts_, they heard a rich, deep tenor-voice say, echoing directly into their minds.

"Did you say something?" she asked, her smile still wide, looking at him expectantly. Quote shook his head – he heard the voice too.

_It's so hot,_ the voice said again, very softly, barely legible at all. They were both looking around the room for where the voice could be coming from. It sure _sounded_ like Ballos, but he couldn't still be around, could he? After all that? _The pain_, he winced, his voice cracking under the invisible strain he was taking. He sounded horribly weak, like he was putting every ounce of his strength into supporting an impossible weight.

There was a soft thud in the room, coming from all four corners at once. Some of the piles of rubble were disturbed suddenly, their light tops toppling over themselves and sliding down the piles. Another thud, suddenly quite a bit louder around them both, and the wall immediately behind Curly suddenly gave her a good shove, scaring them both. "The walls!" she cried, trying to shuffle herself away but her broken legs made it too difficult to crawl more than a few inches, sitting up.

_Help me_, Ballos audibly cried. He was sobbing under the horrible feelings he was experiencing, unable to help himself with his pain, wherever he was. _It hurts so much…it's so hot. Help me…_ The walls continued to compact all the while, the piles of rock being pushed along like feathers as they slid across the flat floor. Quote quickly knelt in front of Curly, facing away from her, offering his neck for her to wrap her arms around. Grabbing her legs by the knees with both hands (clenching his teeth tightly from the pain in his left arm, his grip weak), she piggybacked on him as he ran to the centre of the room, as far away from any wall as they could get. Their exit was too far away for them to reach before the walls closed in on them, however, and there was no other obvious way out.

"There's no way out!" Curly yelped as they both looked up and down the room, looking for a window or a sewer pipe they could take or something, _anything_. "We're gonna get crushed! There's no way out of here!"

There was a loud noise directly above them as something large burrowed through the tough rock above them with incredible speed. They could only just hear it over the grating of the approaching walls, but it was loud enough for them both to look upward. A small, brown stub poked through a spot in the centre of the ceiling as it dug and scraped through the soil, before finally pushing through and bringing the rest of its body down with it. A familiar briefcase with legs came gliding down to the floor, shouting 'Huzzah!' as it fell, its feet slamming hard against the floor. Quote could hardly believe it; of all the people to come to their rescue at all of the times, Balrog was the one to come crashing through the roof and make a hero out of himself. "Did someone ask for a way out?"

"Balrog?!" Curly asked in surprise, sharing Quote's amazement over the development.

"That's my name, last time I checked," he replied with a huge goofy grin, looking them both over. He winced at their looks; Quote was missing a chunk of his 'flesh' in his left shoulder and Curly's legs were broken in different places. "Misery said you guys would be here. Looks like I showed up at exactly the right moment." The walls made another lurch forward, brushing more rocks on top of each other as the room began to collapse into itself. "Whoa, no time for talk, though! Hang on tight to my feet, we gotta roll!"

Quote didn't need a second invitation, even if it was from Balrog, and even if it was a little weird. He brought himself to Balrog's right, kneeling down to let Curly grip onto his stubby foot before diving forward and gripping as hard as he could onto the other. The walls were dangerously close, the rocks approaching and threatening to bury them both if they didn't leave quickly. Balrog gave a huge jump, flapping his stubs hard up and lifting them both out of the same hole he had dug. The rumblings from the room below had caused his tunnel to cave into itself again, but Balrog didn't let that stop him; he simply burst through the blockage, the walls finally pressing themselves as together as they could with the rocks piling into a pillar between them.


	11. Epilogue

"How's your head?" Curly asked. The three of them were high in the sky, making a lap over the island, still trying to calm themselves over that last close call. The sky above them was a beautiful blue: puffy clouds dotted the sky sparsely, the sun hanging high and a refreshing breeze coursing gently through the air. The island was still floating in the sky by some invisible force, although the ground below was clearly visible, the tips of the tallest trees below just grazing the lowest point of the island's undertow. Just a few moments longer, and Ballos would have gotten his wish.

"I'm not sure," he replied, his voice a little cracked and both his eyes narrowed, trying to calm a minor headache. Quote and Curly weren't helping at all; they both sat on top of his flat head rather than grip onto his ankles perilously hundreds of feet over the nearest solid ground. The hole Balrog had made with his skull was plainly visible in the grassy, empty field of the island's western side. "That was too close. Is that what it's like to be you guys every day?"

"No, just every weekend," she answered with a laugh. Quote chuckled to the joke as well. It reminded him of how he didn't have any idea how long he was actually awake, from the moment in that cave without so much as the Polar Star so long ago, to right now, sitting on Balrog's head as they made lazy circles over the island. "I thought we were scrap metal for sure two or three times, there. We owe you another one, after your help moving the boulder for us in the Labyrinth."

Balrog paused before answer, looking down across the island for something. "Nah, don't thank me," he said. "I was just doing what Misery asked me to do."

"Misery? The witch, Misery?"

"The one and only."

"I thought she despised our very names. Heck, I thought _you_ would rather see us dead than come to our rescue. Are those kids safe?" She sounded conflicted: she wasn't sure if she should still be angry at them both for what had happened in the Sand Zone.

"They're safe. They were with the Doctor before Quote busted 'em out. Not a scratch on them." Curly gave a heavy sigh of relief at the good news. "And we don't hate you, we were just doing what we were told. You guys beat Ballos, right? When he died, it lifted the curse on us both. Now neither of us have to take orders from anyone – with Ballos dead, I'm willing to call our score even." They made a wide turn around the mountain at the top of the island, bringing the entrance at its base into view. Someone was just making their way out of the island, a wooden stick in their hand and supporting their weight while they walked lopsidedly into the open. "Hey guys, there's Misery, just at the bottom of the mountain. You should wave to her!"

They both hesitated a little at the offer, but they waved down to her anyway. It took a moment for Misery to look up and see them, but when she did, to their surprise, she waved back. "I thought you two were just jerks," Curly said, her arm still above her, waving slowly to Misery below. "But I guess I'll buy that it was all the Crown's fault. You _did_ mention it in the Labyrinth."

"Yeah, I'd probably get the same vibe if I were on the receiving end, too. You reap what you sow, and all that; Misery was the one who forced Ballos to create the crown in the first place. She didn't really expect eternal servitude to an inanimate object in return, though."

"She made him create the Crown, huh? Is that so?"

"That _is_ so." There was a bit of an awkward silence between the three as they continued soaring over the island. Balrog's little stubs were really putting in a huge effort to keep them up, but Balrog himself didn't look like it was bothering him at all, and that he could keep it up for as long as he wanted. "So!" he said light-heartedly, ready to change the topic.

"So?" Curly responded, wondering what he had in mind.

"So what next? Ballos and the Doctor are gone, our curse is lifted…any ideas on what you'd like to do or where you'd like to go next? I can take you anywhere you'd like; just say the word."

They both raised their eyebrows in thought – they hadn't really thought about what they'd like to do next. Quote just wanted the Doctor gone, but Curly remembered their objectives from a decade ago about the Crown. Either way, their needs were satisfied, and they had nothing left to do. "You're right," Curly hummed, thinking hard about what she'd like to do next. She hadn't thought about her own personal preferences since the Labyrinth. "Our mission is done and completed, and I hadn't really thought this far ahead. But," she chuckled, "with my legs in this shape, there's not a lot I can do right this very moment. How's about we go find some place with an awesome view to start with, and work our way up from there?"

"Yeah?" Balrog asked, looking over the seemingly limitless forest stretching into the distant mountains peeking over the horizon. They seemed like a good place to start looking. "Hey, um, awkward question, but…" He paused, trying to drum up his nerve to ask it.

"Hey, you don't need to be nervous, Balrog, everything's cool between us. Right, Quote?" Quote looked at her, then down to Balrog, and thought about his answer. He and Misery really made his life difficult, but he didn't doubt his explanation that they were just following orders; he nodded once, looking back down to Misery as she kept walking away from the mountain towards the enormous pit where the cabin used to be. They would have been left to die if it weren't for those two. "Quote says so, too, so just say what's on your mind, Balrog."

"Well, I was just wondering…I've been enslaved by that Crown all my life, so I don't really know what it's like to be 'free'. Would you mind if I came with? To your 'some place with an awesome view'?"

"Oh, like you need to ask!" Curly replied, a huge smile on her face. Not that Balrog could see it. "The three of us can live there together, no problem!"

"You really mean it?" he asked, almost unbelieving that Curly would offer their hospitality just like that, considering their relationship up until this point.

"I'll even let you pick the spot. Just find us a good place; it's gotta have a great view, and the ground's gotta be sturdy enough to build a house on. A big house; because you're a pretty big guy, Balrog, you're going to need a lot of room to get around." She paused a moment before continuing. "And I'm going to need the space so I can find a hiding spot to keep my panties safe from a certain someone." Quote turned his head slowly back towards Curly, his eyes wide at the sentence and his expression surprised. "Yeah, Quote," she said sternly, not the least bit amused, "I knew since the beginning."

Quote waved his hands at Curly back and forth, shaking his head, trying to convey to her that she had the wrong idea and it was just an accident, nothing more. She didn't look like she was buying it, though. "A panty thief, huh?" Balrog asked, amused. "It's a good thing you told me, Curly. Now I'll know to find a good spot to hide _my_ panties, too." They both looked down towards Balrog's face; he wasn't serious, was he? He was just pulling their legs, right? "Nah, I'm just kidding," he said with a laugh, causing the other two to relax at the joke. "Or am I? I guess we'll find out!"

* * *

_How's it going, you guys?_

_Man, things have been so awesome here on the island lately, it's tough to pick a place to start, you know? Everyone's so happy and everybody's so productive now that they know they don't have a guy like Date watching over their every move, ready to snatch 'em up and take them someplace they don't want to go. The whole place has just been bustling with activity; it seems like every other week someone's found some new underground vein and raising a new village._

_I guess I can start with what's going on in the Labyrinth. The Gaudi are just as friendly as ever; they're very sociable, you know, they always find something to talk about. It's always a party with them. They were pretty freaked out when the island started to fall, they say, but they knew they were tough guys; since when does a little thing like getting crushed ever stop a cockroach, right? They have that little green guy and his nurse who call themselves physicians looking after them, although he keeps insisting that they're not what he specializes in. Even if he's not, the guy seems to know his way around his medicine when it comes to the Gaudi all the same._

_Jenka's doing all right. She was really surprised when she was told that it was you guys who caused the island to fall and then made it stop falling. She seemed really sad and distant for a little while after that, like she knew someone that just died or something. Her dog Hajime couldn't be happier, although his not really allowed past the fence around the house, living in the Sand Zone and all. Last I checked, she and Professor Booster have really been hitting it off – he's been visiting her place more and more frequently, even knowing how dangerous the Sand Zone really is. That sly dog, am I right?_

_King and Toroko have been given proper burials at the graveyard next to their village. The sword you told me to place next to his tombstone is there, so you don't have to worry about that. They were both buried next to Arthur's grave; we thought it was only appropriate given how they were both heroes for their times, too. We had a memorial service to them both and everything, it was really sad. Be sure to pay your respects next time you visit, eh? You wouldn't want King's spirit coming after any of you ungrateful outsiders, you know._

_What else, what else…oh, how stupid of me! I forgot about how I was doing! Me and the gang are doing pretty awesome, good health and high spirits all around, but you want to know the amazing part? With Itoh's engineering genius, Kazuma's programming smarts and mom's opposable thumbs, we managed to create a machine that changed us back to our human forms! Let me tell you, flexing my thumbs and not being covered in inch-thick hair all the time really makes you appreciate what you have when you can't do it for a few weeks, although Itoh and I have noticed that it's suddenly really cold all the time. There's a gimmick to the machine, though; every time we sneeze, we're changed back to our Mimiga forms, just like that. Mom tried to explain it away with some kind of babble about magical runoff or whatever, but it just flies over my head. It can be really inconvenient sometimes, what with clothes suddenly being too big or too small and dropping whatever we happen to be carrying at the time, but I think it can come in handy, especially during the winters._

_Misery is doing good, too, although she's not the most extroverted of people to be around, you know? She spends most of her time on the surface, just kinda staring out over the edge and towards the horizon. She's friendly – ask her a question and she'll answer, or invite her to dinner and she'll be there – but she's not as involved in any of the projects that could really use her help as she could be. I think she's still recovering from her mistakes that she made, about that whole 'being cursed' thing that nobody will explain to me. I'm sure her time with Date and his insanity has really hurt her, too, on the inside._

_Kazuma spends most of his time with his pet dragon rather than doing something actually productive. I can't totally blame him, though; if mom's example is anything to go by, parenthood is a real chore, and Kazuma's kid is no lightweight. Dragons grow pretty fast! It was half the size of a house when we first saw it, and now it's almost too big to move around inside the island. Do you have any idea how much they need to eat on a daily basis? The cleanup is pretty brutal, too, so I forgive Kazuma for slacking off. On the bright side, how many people can say they're a dragon's daddy? How many people can ride on a winged lizard all over the globe as much as they like? How many people never, ever have to worry about being bullied over anything again? Exactly one, that's how many._

_We built a special incinerator to take care of the last of the red flowers. It's airtight except for the funnel going straight down and out of the island, just so nobody has to worry about inhaling any fumes or something. Can't be too careful, you know? Everybody wore protective masks and gloves while they uprooted and moved the flowers to the incinerator. Not a single petal was left behind; we've been looking all over the island for any that might have slipped past us, and we occasionally find a petal or a seed somewhere. No outbreaks, though! Everybody knows the dangers of the flowers now, so they're treated like live dynamite while they're moved to someplace more secure._

_Well, I'm about to run out of paper here, so let me just wrap things up. Mom, Itoh and I plan on heading back to our homes on the surface in a little bit – they just have some things to build and teach to the Mimiga before we can go. Kazuma will be staying, though, to look after his dragon, which would be easier in a place where it could actually stand up. Be sure to visit before then! Everybody would like to see you guys once more before we go, and Misery always seems to liven up whenever Balrog's nearby. We know your 'address', too, so we'll be sure to set you guys up with a phone-line or something to let you know when we're in the neighbourhood. I can't wait to see your house when it's finished!_

_Love, Sue Sakamoto_

Curly was comparing her letter with the letter she had written to Quote in the Plantation, noting the incredible differences between the handwriting. They had picked a spot in the mountains with an absolutely gorgeous view of the forest and the sprawling ocean underneath, and they had visited the island a few times again to see how things were going and to talk with some good friends, but she had never seen Sue as a human. She was already making plans to visit one last time soon, before the group took off again.

Her broken legs had been healing pretty well – being a combat android, her recoveries were fairly swift and effective compared to the average human's, but it was still taking some time. She was strong enough to stand with a pair of crutches, but she was totally immobile without them until they were totally healed.

The spot Balrog had picked was fabulous, meeting all their requirements, and it even had a small cave nearby for them to use however they felt like. They considered just making their home in the cave, but it was tossed out when they all agreed that they had enough to do with spelunking for a lifetime. It made for a good garage, or temporary shelter until their home was finished, at least. None of them were very good handymen, particularly with their handicaps (Quote was wearing a splint on his left arm while his shoulder patched itself), so they had been bringing in some help from the island to make their dream home a reality.

"Curly!" Balrog shouted down the mouth of the cave, grabbing her attention from the letters. "We _just_ finished putting the last touches on your room and Quote's room. Come on, give it a look!"

She folded the letters back up neatly, placing them back onto the makeshift table. "I'm coming!" she shouted back happily, reaching for her two crutches and pulling herself up from her stone chair. The house was utterly bare of any furnishings and it was only half-done, but Curly and Quote agreed, it was a beautiful building all the same. She hadn't told anyone yet, but she wanted to make another one in the island once this one was finished, to restart her orphanage. She had a feeling that neither of the boys would have any problems with it; she could probably find someone, like Kazuma or Jack, to look after the orphanage whenever she was away, but they could worry about that later. For now, life was good.


End file.
